


Tea and Sympathy

by jessiecrimefighter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Also Fitz-Hunter bromance, Battle of Wits, Blackmail, Coffee shop has nothing much to do with the rest of the fic, Evil villain standing in path of true love, F/M, Fitz has a nemesis, Fitz is a barista, Fitzsimmons are my OTP and BROTP, Fluff, Little bit of angst, Obnoxious customer, Sassy Fitz, Starts in a coffee shop, The Simmons family are super rich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 79,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessiecrimefighter/pseuds/jessiecrimefighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz doesn't mind his job in a coffee shop, it pays his bills and it's a stop-gap until his bigger plans come to fruition, but there's one customer who makes his life hell. That is, until one day something happens that makes him think he'd be prepared to put up with having his nemesis in his life permanently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Such a Bad Day After All...

As the door swung open, a familiar grating sound carried over the babble of conversation and the hiss of the steamer. Fitz gritted his teeth. He was already having a bad day. The breakfast rush had been a nightmare, with everything that could go wrong happening all at once. The only thing that could make it worse had just walked in, chatting loudly and obnoxiously on her phone, something he was sure she only did for attention. 

"Well, I mean, it's absolutely outrageous, I was livid when I heard," she whined, flouncing through into the coffee shop in her expensive floral sundress, massive sunglasses and sky-high wedges. She dropped the designer handbag that was slung over her wrist onto a chair near the window, and pushed her glasses up onto her head, tossing her long brown hair, as she sat down. The girls who worked in the café were always raving about how they loved her clothes and she was so pretty, and then they’d call her a “bitch” with the same breath, which always confused Fitz. The other guys who worked were all of the opinion that she was stuck-up but they’d “do her anyway”. This also confused Fitz as he didn’t find her remotely attractive. She was the bane of his life currently and he couldn’t wait to leave this place in just a few months and never see her again. It ruined his day every time the Simmons girl came into the café. 

He didn't know her first name, but apparently her dad was some kind of big deal. He'd heard all about it in his first week of working there when he managed to upset her by accidentally giving her skimmed milk instead of soya milk during a really busy period. She had thrown a fit, screaming about being lactose intolerant, and his manager had given him a right dressing down. Graham had hissed "Do you know who her father is?" at Fitz, before grovelling to the girl and giving her a replacement coffee on the house. Fitz had no idea who her father was and cared even less; however, he was interested in knowing what had happened to her lactose intolerance now that the weather was warmer and she kept ordering frappucinos with whipped cream all the time.

Things had gotten even worse a few weeks after that when she came in with a miniature Yorkshire terrier in her bag, and Fitz had told her that only assistance dogs were allowed on the premises. This was apparently another outrage, and Graham had instantly reversed company policy solely for her, assuring her that as long as the dog stayed in her bag, she was welcome to bring it in. Fitz gritted his teeth as he realised that if he wanted to keep his job he needed to keep his mouth shut and just do whatever she wanted from now on, just like everyone else in the cafe did. He had rent to pay after all. She was not intent on making it easy for him however - he had upset her and so she was determined to find fault with his service every time she came in. 

He carried two cappuccinos over to two men in suits who were too busy talking to look at him. Just as he placed the cups on the table, the Simmons girl finished talking on the phone and began ostentatiously looking around her as if she couldn’t believe someone was not hovering beside her, begging her to let them take her order. This place wasn’t even supposed to have table service, most people ordered at the counter, but somehow she got special treatment. He sighed as he took his notebook and pen out of the pocket of his apron and headed towards where she was tapping her feet impatiently.

"Miss Simmons," he said with his politest smile, "what can I get for you today?"

"Oh, it's you," she intoned, glancing briefly at him, and then out the window. "I'm waiting for someone but they're not here yet," she continued, waving idly in the direction of the chair opposite. 

"Would you like me to come back and take your order when they arrive?" he asked, hoping he'd be otherwise occupied when that happened so someone else could serve her. 

"No!" she snapped indignantly, "I want to order now, I'm not going to sit here twiddling my thumbs until she arrives. I want a large latte, no foam, extra shot, one pump vanilla syrup, skimmed milk, chocolate sprinkles. Are you writing this down? Because you always get it wrong."

Fitz smiled tightly, refusing to rise to the bait, as he scribbled her order down. "Chocolate…sprinkles...okay. Now, that's skimmed milk and not soya, right?" he asked in an innocent tone. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes," she spat. Fitz flashed her an insincere smile, and turned on his heel, curling his hands into fists as he walked away to prepare her coffee.

The door opened again as he was steaming the skimmed milk. He automatically looked up – and literally felt his jaw drop. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life came walking through the door. Fitz felt a sudden fluttery feeling in his chest as he gazed at her. She was a little out of breath as if she'd been hurrying, and there were spots of pink on her pale and delicately freckled cheeks. Soft caramel curls fell to her shoulders, and bounced prettily as she turned her head this way and that to look round the room. As she did so, huge honey-coloured eyes fell on Fitz, and full, rosy lips curled into the most intoxicating smile. He knew he was staring like an idiot, but he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away. Even her outfit was perfect and Fitz never noticed what girls were wearing. She wore a cream coloured blouse with a black anchor pattern, a mustard cardigan, and a swingy black skirt that came to just above her knees, revealing shapely, creamy white legs. She wore mustard-coloured flat shoes that made her look very dainty. Almost as soon as she had smiled at Fitz, she turned her head to look in the other direction and a look of recognition passed over her perfect features. She began making her way over to a table, and Fitz suddenly found himself desperately hoping that she wasn't here on a date. 

He didn't know whether to be relieved or even more disappointed when he saw that she was heading towards the table where the Simmons girl was playing with her phone. That one had a different square-jawed, sunbed-tanned, posh-looking dickhead with loafers in here every week, and she was always fawning over them so he knew she wasn’t gay. She didn’t seem to particularly like other women, so he didn’t think she was bisexual either. It wasn’t a date then, thank god – but was this girl actually friends with the hell beast?! Miss Simmons looked up and saw the newcomer, and annoyance flashed across her already sour expression.

"What the bloody hell kept you? I've been sat here on my own like an idiot for about 20 minutes now!" she barked at the pretty girl. She hasn't been there more than five, Fitz thought bitterly to himself. It almost hurt to hear someone snapping at such a lovely woman. 

"I'm so sorry!" the pretty girl gasped, seating herself in the opposite chair. "I got here as fast as I possibly could!" 

She had the sweetest voice Fitz had ever heard. Oh bloody hell, what was wrong with him? Get a grip on yourself, man, he chastised himself. She's here with that manicured monster, so she can't be that amazing. Why was she so apologetic to that pain in the arse, though? She seemed really sweet. There was something in the way they were speaking to each other, the Simmons girl's annoyed tone, the pretty woman's almost placating one… Realisation flared in Fitz's mind. He studied them both together for a minute. Yes, there it was, definitely. Miss Simmons had smaller, darker eyes, thinner lips and a rounder face than the other woman, and she didn't have the same warmth in her face or softness to her features, but apart from that they looked very much alike. They had to be sisters. 

Fitz could see it now. His heart sank. He had never been so struck by anyone in his life; he had basically fallen for this woman with one glance, only to discover that she was the sister of his arch-nemesis. How could life play such a cruel trick on him? If she was the Simmons girl's sister, then she was probably stuck up and full of herself as well. With a sigh he turned his attention back to shaking chocolate sprinkles on the latte. 

"I was in the lab running some tests and I had to wait until they were done, it took longer than I expected, I'm sorry," the girl continued. "I tried to ring but your phone was engaged, and I didn't have time to text because I was hurrying here." She was running tests in a lab? Fitz's ears perked back up again. Was she a scientist? He carried the coffee over to the table.

"Honestly, you're never out of that bloody lab. You need to get a life," her sister sniffed huffily. Fitz sat the coffee down in front of her. "One large latte, no foam, extra shot, one pump vanilla syrup, skimmed milk and chocolate sprinkles," he declared. 

She leaned forward gingerly as if to inspect the coffee. "Is it decaf?" 

Fitz had to forcibly restrain himself from rolling his eyes, aware that Satan’s pretty sister was watching him. He forced a smile. "I'm sorry, miss, I don't believe you ordered decaf. Did you want decaf?"

"Well, of course I wanted decaf!" she snapped. "I always get decaf!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Charlotte!" her sister intervened wearily. "Stop making such a fuss! If you didn’t order decaf, how is he supposed to know that’s what you wanted? And you do not always get decaf, your coffee order changes every week."

"It does not! It changes seasonally!" At which her sister rolled her eyes, and Fitz suppressed a snort. "And I did order decaf!"

"He just repeated your ridiculously long-winded concoction back to you without any hesitation. If he remembered ‘no foam’, I'm sure he'd remember if you ordered decaf!"

It was official. Fitz was smitten. It took everything in his power not to gape adoringly at this woman. Instead, he smiled gratefully at her as he offered to bring the now-sulking Charlotte a decaf latte. She waved him away contemptuously and he turned his attention back to her sister. "What can I get you, miss?" he asked, trying his damnedest not to sound like a lovesick idiot. 

"Oh, could I just have a cup of tea please?" she smiled brightly at him. 

Charlotte snorted. "A cup of tea? Seriously, Jems? I bring you to the best coffee place in the area, and you want a cup of tea? Their coffee is fabulous here... well, it is when the right people make it," she added, side-eyeing Fitz, who did roll his eyes this time before he could stop himself. He panicked for a split second when he saw her sister glancing at him, before he realised that she was giving him a very sympathetic smile. 

"I'm sorry." She scrunched her face adorably in apology and Fitz literally felt himself go weak at the knees. "I'm afraid I'm not really much of a coffee person. Is it allowed to have tea in your fabulous coffee place?"

Fitz felt himself beaming back at her. How could someone so nice be related to so someone so...evil? "Yes, it is absolutely allowed, we also have a fabulous selection of teas here. I'm actually more of a tea drinker myself," he confided, earning himself a radiant smile. He ignored Charlotte’s muttered "Well, of course you are." The way her sister was smiling at him, she could say whatever she wanted and he wouldn't give a damn.

"Oh, you know what, Jems?" Charlotte suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward in an attempt to get control of the conversation again. "They do have the most wonderful blended herbal teas here. I always get them when I'm detoxing. You should try that one...what is it? Meadow Sunrise or something?"

'Jems' scrunched her face again. "No thanks. Herbal infusions are all well and good, but they are not tea.”

"Of course, they're tea, Jemma!" Charlotte scoffed irritably. "It says so on the packet."

"Actually, you're both right," Fitz replied, not taking his eyes off Jemma. "Although they are mostly labelled as 'herbal teas' these days, the correct term for them is actually tis..."

"Tisanes!" Jemma jumped in excitedly. "Yes, thank you, finally someone else knows that word!" She glanced triumphantly at her sister, who was looking increasingly disgusted with the proceedings, and then beamed at Fitz again. He felt like he was glowing inside and hoped he didn't have a dopey look on his face. 

"I would rather not have a tisane, thank you," Jemma continued playfully. "I would prefer a beverage made from leaves of the tea plant. But not green tea! Or white tea..."

"Black tea," Fitz finished for her, grinning. "Is there a particular type you'd prefer, like Darjeeling or Assam or..."

Jemma shrugged. "Is there an ordinary, plain generic blend?"

"Well, there's an English Breakfast there, I think you'll like that." She smiled and nodded her acquiescence at him. "Would you like anything to eat as well?" he asked. 

"I'd love a scone if you have any?"

"Of course! Plain, fruit, white chocolate and cranb..."

"Oh, just fruit will be fine, thank you."

"Jam and cream?"

"Ooooh, lovely, thank you! Is it clotted cream, by any chance?"

"Ah no, I'm sorry. I keep telling them they should get that in, but no, we just have whipped cream, is that okay?"

"Yes, that'll be fine, thank you." She flashed another of her dazzling smiles at him, and he walked away feeling quite weak. 

One thing the staff knew about this building that the customers didn’t was the way the high ceiling and wood panels and floors affected the acoustics. The conversations they had heard at that counter! What Fitz could hear now was making him wish the ground would open up and swallow him.

"Ew, that creep was all over you!" Charlotte spat in a disgusted tone.

"Oh, for god's sake, Charlotte, he was not! And he’s not a creep! I thought he was lovely!" Jemma sounded genuinely annoyed.

"He fancied the arse off you, it was so obvious!"

"He was being nice, Charlotte! He was very sweet actually."

"Ńo, he wasn't, he's never nice! He's a snarky bastard actually. And he's useless, I don't know why he hasn't been fired yet. He's always getting my order wrong. And he's so bloody smarmy about it, like he thinks he is somebody when all he does is work in a coffee shop!"

"Oh, Charlotte, don't be such a snob! He’s obviously smart and he's completely not cowed by you, that's why you don't like him. And don't make assumptions, you don't know anything about him. Maybe he loves being a barista, maybe it's his dream job and he's very happy in it. Or maybe he's an entrepreneur who plans to have a whole chain of coffee shops one day. Or maybe he's a struggling artist or writer or actor, who's brilliant and just waiting for his big break. Or maybe he's training or studying to do something else and this job pays the bills." Fitz smiled to himself at the slightly dreamy quality her voice had taken on, as he poured hot water into the teapot. "Not everybody has a high-paying, glamorous job just handed to them by their father, Charlottte," she added pointedly. 

"Excuse me, I work bloody hard!" Charlotte exclaimed indignantly. "Corporate event planning isn't easy, you know! And you're one to talk, you've never worked a day in your life! You've been a student for almost a decade now!" 

"In a few months, I'll have my second PhD. Both of which I worked damn hard for myself. And I'm currently looking at several offers I've received..." Fitz didn't hear anything else, as he had a sudden inspiration and hurried to the fridge in the kitchen. She has two PhDs, he thought incredulously. How smart was this girl?! And what was her field? 

He returned from the kitchen with a little pot he put on a tray beside Jemma's tea and scone. "I'll have to remember not to be such a "creep" this time," he thought bitterly to himself as he walked back to the table. Charlotte was busy moaning about how exhausting it was to have to go to corporate parties all the time, and Jemma looked as if she had heard this rant a million times before and was thoroughly bored by it. He was sure that he imagined the way her face lit up when she saw him approaching though. Charlotte merely looked irritated by the interruption. 

"Here you go," he said, lifting Jemma’s tea things off the tray and placing them in front of her. "There's cream there for your scone, but if you'd like, I've given you some mascarpone cheese as well, it's a very good substitute for clotted cream, you should try it."

"Oh, wow, that's very sweet, thank you," Jemma gushed delightedly. "Mascarpone! I'd never have thought of that, that’s a wonderful idea!"

Fitz ignored the fact that Charlotte was ostentatiously rolling her eyes. "Yeah, my mum uses it in her tea shop in Glasgow when she can't get clotted cream."

"Your mum owns a tea shop in Glasgow?! Oh my god, what one?" asked Jemma, excitedly.

"Um, Fitz's Tea Emporium on..."

"Oh my god! I was there! I was there!" she exclaimed. "I was in Glasgow for a conference last year, I was there for three days, I had tea in your mum's place every day! Oh!" she gasped suddenly, her eyes widening in remembrance. "I spoke to your mum! The lady who owned the place chatted to me for ages, she was so lovely!"

Something clicked in Fitz's head and he blushed as he smiled awkwardly and nodded. "She is lovely, yeah. I can't believe you know my mum's tea house, that's amazing," he chuckled. 

"Oh, Charlotte, you should see this place, it's wonderful, it's like an old-fashioned Victorian tea house, I just fell in love with it!" Jemma was gushing. She was so beautiful when she was excited, and Fitz's bones turned to jelly over the fact that she was excited about the business his mum had slaved for years to build up, the proceeds of which had paid for his education. 

"Oh, oh, oh!" Jemma suddenly yelped excitedly, flapped her hands at him. "I just remembered that your mum was talking to me about her son, who was doing a PhD in engineering! She said she just had the one child - that's you!"

Fitz blushed and smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, I finish really soon," he nodded.

"Yes! She asked me what I was doing in Glasgow, and I said I was attending a biochemistry conference because I was doing a PhD, and she said her son was doing a PhD as well. She was so proud of you, it was so lovely!"

"Oh god," Fitz felt his face growing hotter. "I'm sorry you had to be subjected to that! She does go on a bit!"

"No, it was realły very sweet! I remember thinking I wish my family were as proud of me," she added, with a pointed look at Charlotte. She returned Jemma's dig with a withering look, and lifted her coffee to her lips, glancing round the room as if to signal her complete disinterest in this conversation. 

"I'm trying to remember what she told me your name was," Jemma continued, returning her attention to Fitz. "Liam, was it? Or Lee?" 

"Leo," Fitz said with a rueful grin.

"Leo! That's right!" Jemma snapped her fingers in triumph.

"Yeah, but only she calls me that," Fitz explained. "Everyone else just calls me Fitz."

"Fitz? Somehow that suits you better than Leo," she grinned. "Well, Fitz, I'm Jemma. Jemma Simmons. And this is my sister Charlotte, although I gather you two have already met." She gave him a look of sympathy that suggested that she had a good idea what his encounters with her sister had been like.

Fitz cleared his throat nervously, as he fiddled with the tray in his hands. "So, you're doing a PhD in biochem?" he asked awkwardly. "Do you mind if I ask what it is that you're working on? It's just that I actually need a biochemist for the project I'm working at the minute."

Behind him he heard Charlotte snort and mutter, "Yeah, I bet you do." He felt the flush creeping up his neck, as Jemma narrowed her eyes at her sister. Then she turned her radiant smile on him again. "That's fine, I don't mind telling you at all. I'm actually working on developing a paralytic agent that can render someone immobile without causing any lasting damage, for example, in a law enforcement or military situation. There's been some interest in it from those quarters, but I just need an effective dispersal mechanism, so in all honesty, I could probably be doing with an engineer as well."

"This is incredible!" Fitz hugged the tray to his chest in excitement. "That's an absolutely fascinating project, and I think I could definitely help with that. But the amazing thing is, my project has implications for law enforcement as well. I've been working on a prototype, a drone which can collect and analyse forensic material at crime scenes and so on. A company in America is interested in developing it, and I’m going over there in a few months, but I've been having some problems with it and I think now that the solution might be to develop several different drones, each one capable of collecting different types of evidence. For example, I'm been thinking about one that seeks out, collects and identifies fluids, but I need a biochemist to help me…”

"With the analysis!" Jemma exclaimed. "Yes, of course! Fitz, that sounds fascinating! I'd love to talk to you more about it." She suddenly glanced apologetically at her sister, who was studying her nails in a silent rage. She turned back to Fitz, scrunching her face adorably once again. "As you can see, I'm with my sister right now, but could we meet for a cuppa some day this week to discuss it?"

"Oh, yes, yes, defintely, that would be great!" Fitz realised too late that he couldn't have sounded more enthusiastic if he tried, but Jemma didn't seem to be fazed. Instead she was taking her phone out of her bag. "What's your number and I'll text you to arrange a time," she asked. Fitz called out his number as she typed it into her phone. "That's great!" she beamed, putting her phone back into her bag. "We'll just meet in here then?"

"No!" Fitz said quickly. "Not here. There's a nice little tea shop round the corner from here, if you liked my mum's place, you'll like it."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! I'll give you a text later this evening then, and we'll sort something out."

Fitz grinned and nodded, pleased and embarrassed and excited all at the same time. "I'd better get back to work then. I'll leave you two alone, I'm sorry to interrupt your chat." He bowed his head slightly as he backed awkwardly away from the table. He turned away and hurried back towards the counter where another customer was waiting to pay. He couldn't wait to tell his mum that in a place the size of London, he'd actually managed to run in to the beautiful girl she'd been so taken with in her tea shop last year, the one she'd told him over and over again she wished he could meet, who was doing a PhD in London the same as he was, and was a scientist as well, and was so lovely, and how she would love for him to be with a girl like that. Actually, maybe he shouldn’t tell her anything. She’d get way too excited and then he’d have to explain that it was just a professional meeting. There was no way a girl like that would ever be interested in him for any other reason.

"Oh my god, Jems, you cannot be serious!" he heard Charlotte snort. "You've got a date with a barista! A barista! A rude, obnoxious Scottish barista at that! Who thinks he’s some sort of inventor! And he's skinny and he has curly hair," she added in apparent disgust. 

"Actually, Charlotte, I've got a meeting with an engineer, to discuss a possible collaboration. A very sweet and charming Scottish engineer, at that. And I happen to think he's very cute! He has the most beautiful eyes!" 

In total shock, Fitz dropped the change he was in the process of handing back to the customer in front of him. He started scrabbling to gather it up off the counter, praying that anyone who saw him would put his bright red complexion down to the embarrassment of fumbling this transaction. 

"Ugh!" Charlotte made a gagging sound. "I seriously worry about you sometimes, Jems! If that's the kind of thing that does it for you, listening to some boring wanker going on about his 'designs'." 

Fitz couldn't see her from where he was, but he was pretty sure she had put air quotes around the last word. 

"Oh, Charlotte," Jemma snapped. "Do shut up!"

Fitz felt himself grin so widely he thought his face might break. Best. Day. Ever.


	2. Tea for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma meet up to discuss working together. Jemma apologises for Charlotte's behaviour and Fitz tells Jemma the incredible story of how his work came to the attention of a company in America. Afterwards Fitz returns home and we find out a little bit about his somewhat eventful domestic life.

Jemma sipped her tea appreciatively before placing the cup gently back on the saucer. She glanced across the table at Fitz, who was busy sketching rough designs on sheets of graph paper. She smiled to herself and bit her lip in nervous excitement. They were on their third pot of tea now, having spent over an hour excitedly discussing the possibilities for combining their research. Jemma was convinced that a camera designed to capture infra-red wavelengths was the key to making Fitz’s forensic drone capable of chemical analysis, and Fitz had suggested that Jemma’s dendrotoxin formula could be housed in a casing that could be fired from a gun like a bullet. This was ingenious; previously Jemma had only been able to think in terms of a spray, which was not ideal since sprays were inaccurate. It was all very exciting, and Jemma found it impossible to keep from grinning like an idiot when she watched Fitz talking animatedly about how a certain idea might work, his shockingly blue eyes lit up with passion, his deft hands weaving invisible machines in the air in front of them as he spoke.

She sighed to herself as he began to gather up the pages spread out over the table in front of him, chatting about how he would work on these ideas that night, and discuss them further with her when they met at her lab the next day. She was already looking forward to seeing him again. She pondered how she could be so affected by this man that she had met only twice now. He was just so interesting. He was definitely the smartest person she had ever met, and also the most creative, with big ideas he wasn’t afraid to explore. He obviously shared the same passion for science and discovery that she had, and it was really the first time in her life that Jemma had encountered a genuine kindred spirit. She knew that she was guilty of always privately considering herself the smartest person in the room, but Fitz’s intelligence and inventiveness had astounded her - a totally new experience. And yet, what was strange was that the most striking thing about Fitz was not, in fact, his brilliance, but his kindness. He had a gentle nature, and an openness about him that made her just about melt. He also had a slightly off-beat sense of humour and a startlingly quick wit which delighted her no end.  
All in all, the whole experience of talking to him was both intoxicating and extremely disconcerting. She wouldn’t mind if she wasn’t so damn attracted to him. She didn’t understand it, he wasn’t even her type. Not physically anyway. He was much more boyish than she normally went for; much shorter, slimmer and blonder than the well-built, ‘tall, dark and handsome’ fare she was used to. Then again, Jemma’s type hadn’t really been working out for her…well, ever. It was probably time she went back to the drawing board on what she was looking for in a romantic partner. 

But she was getting way ahead of herself here. After all, this was not a date. This was a meeting about a possible collaboration, and a very exciting one at that. If this was going to work, then she needed to maintain professional boundaries. Not only could any kind of physical relationship create serious obstacles to the successful outcome of the project, but she didn’t want to be seen as some silly schoolgirl who couldn’t work side by side with a man without falling in love with him. Refocusing her attention on her surroundings, instead of on how those dextrous fingers were rifling through pages, she commented once again on how delightful the tea shop was, earning a bashful smile in return.

“I thought you might like it,” he replied. “I come in here some times to work on my laptop, on my way home from the coffee shop. It kind of reminds of me of my mum’s place,” he added, looking around wistfully, in a way Jemma found nothing short of adorable.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s quite as nice as your mum’s place though,” she interjected. “I love her tea house, it’s got such a lovely atmosphere, it’s like stepping back in time. I love all the attention to period detail, with the Victorian furniture and china and so on.”

“Yeah, she spent a lot of time going to auctions and antique markets to get all that stuff. She’s very proud of it. She remembered you, by the way. I spoke to her last night. She thought you were lovely.”

“She did?! Aw, that’s so sweet. Well, tell her I said I thought she was lovely too! Her name is Linda, isn’t it?”

“It is. And I will,” Fitz grinned. His face coloured slightly, and he leaned over to look into his bag for something as he added, “She also said you should come back up to Glasgow and visit her someday. She said she’ll bake some of those cherry macaroons you were so fond of.”

Jemma let out a peal of laughter. “Oh, I’ll definitely have to visit then! Yes, I ate an impressive amount of those in the three days I was there.”

Fitz beamed at her and scratched his neck awkwardly. It was so sweet how he was so close with his mum. The thought caused Jemma to recall Fitz’s only experience with a member of her family, and she cringed. “By the way,” she began, as she nervously ran her fingers around the rim of the cup, “I wanted to apologise for Charlotte.” She almost laughed at the adorable look of feigned confusion on Fitz’s face, as if he had no earthly idea what there was to apologise for on Charlotte’s behalf. “It’s okay, Fitz,” she said with a rueful half-smile. “You don’t need to pretend, I do know what my sister is like. I’m pretty sure from her behaviour the other day, that she’s been an absolutely frightful customer for you.”

Fitz reddened, and squirmed awkwardly in his chair. “No, she…she, uhm…well, she can be quite particular about…”

“She’s rude and demanding,” Jemma finished bluntly. “And there’s no excuse for it, and I’m sorry that you have to put up with it when you’re just doing your job. It is not the first time I’ve had to make this apology to a member of the catering or hospitality industry…or retail. Or transport, or customer service of any kind…” Jemma sighed, as she gazed into her tea to avoid looking at the endearing combination of awkwardness and sympathy on Fitz’s face. “I don’t know why she’s like that,” she continued. “Actually, no, that’s not true,” she said, shaking her head. “I do know why she’s like that. She’s spoiled. She’s the baby of the family, and my parents dote on her, and she’s had everything she’s ever wanted handed to her, her whole life. But…and I know you won’t believe this, it’s also made her massively insecure. You see,” she said, looking Fitz in the eye now as a sisterly protectiveness compelled her to explain, “my older brother and I, we both always had things we excelled at. For me it was science, for Thomas it was sports. But it’s a double-edged sword, achievement, because it meant that my parents put far more pressure on us. We were expected to achieve then, and it was a big disappointment if we didn’t.” She wondered why the hell she was spouting all this stuff to a guy she had just met. She didn’t usually open up to people like that. Fitz was frowning at her in a concerned fashion. Reign it in, Jemma, she admonished herself. 

She shook her head and continued. “But Charlotte never had that kind of obvious thing that she excelled at, you know? She was a cute and precocious child, she was quite charming, and she used that to get attention - which my parents lavished on her. And now, I suppose, when she doesn’t get that kind of adoration immediately, she abuses people for not giving it to her. But, I mean,” she added somewhat defensively, although Fitz hadn’t said anything, “she’s young, she’s still finding her way in the world. And it’s not like she doesn’t have her talents. She’s actually smarter than she lets on, and she’s a force to be reckoned with when there’s something she really wants. I just think that she needs to find something that she’s passionate about, and she’ll feel more fulfilled …” She faltered as she took in the slightly sceptical look on Fitz’s face, and she realised that she sounded like she was making excuses for her sister. She sighed again and shrugged, taking another drink of her now tepid tea. Sometimes it felt like their entire relationship consisted of Jemma going around after Charlotte, apologising to the victims left behind in her tyrannical wake. 

Fitz nodded suddenly when he realised Jemma had stopped talking. “Yeah, yeah, I mean, she probably will,” he assented, in a gesture of reassurance. It was clear that he wasn’t sure what to say next and was searching his brain for a new topic of conversation. Jemma felt compelled to fill the sudden awkward silence with a more business-like discussion. “So, uhm,” she cleared her throat, as she shifted in her chair, “you said a company in America is interested in your design? You were saying you’re going over there in a few months?”

“Yes, we’re going over to New York in June,” Fitz replied. “That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about, I’m going to email them to tell them about your ideas for the drones, and I really think they’d be very interested in your formula as well, so…”

“We?”

Jemma’s stomach had dropped like a stone. He said “we”. He had a significant other. Of course he did. Why had she assumed he didn’t? His mother had bemoaned his single status when she met her in Glasgow, but that had been almost a year ago now. Not every PhD student is completely unable to maintain any semblance of a love life, or even social life, just because you are, she crossly reminded herself.

“What?” Fitz looked blankly at her.

“You said “we” are going over in June. I didn’t know…are you working with a partner already?” Please let it be a lab partner, please let it be a lab partner, she thought fervently. 

“Oh! No, I’m going over with Hunter! Did I not mention him?”

Oh, of course, Jemma thought dully. He’s gay. Makes sense, all the good ones are. Hunter must be his boyfriend. She realised that she had let Charlotte put ideas in her head, with her insistence that Fitz fancied Jemma. A part of her had believed it, and now she felt strangely devastated. Not only was he already involved, but there was no chance that anything could ever happen between the two of them in the future. This thought stopped her short. Had she been hoping there was? This was supposed to be a professional meeting! Damn it, Jemma!

“No,” she replied, with what she hoped looked like a casual shrug. 

“Oh, sorry! I thought I had. I was so caught up in these ideas…Hunter’s my flatmate. And he’s sort of…well, I think…I think he might be my best friend.” Fitz’s screwed his face up in thought, as if he wasn’t quite sure if this was the case.

Relief flooded through Jemma’s system like a dam bursting. She almost sighed with happiness. “Why do you ‘think’ he might be your best friend?” she asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

“Well, it’s just…we’re very different. An odd pair, really. I don’t think we actually have anything in common. I only met him because he answered my ad for the flat when my old flatmate moved out a couple of years ago. He’s an ex-soldier, SAS, if you can believe that. He’s a bit of a ‘bloke’ really. He likes football and drinks a lot of beer, and doesn’t appear to really care about anything. But he does, he’s actually a good guy, and for some reason, we get on really well. We have a similar sense of humour, I think.”

“And he’s going to America with you?” Jemma couldn’t picture a sweet guy like Fitz being best friends with someone who was once a member of the most elite army regiment in the country. 

“Well, how the whole thing came about was quite weird, really,” Fitz explained. “You see, when Hunter left the SAS, he went to work for this private security firm somewhere in the Middle East. It’s all very hush-hush, he doesn’t talk about it much, I don’t think he’s allowed to, but while he was there he met this American girl and fell in love, but she turned out to be an undercover CIA agent.” 

Jemma felt her eyes widen at this, and her mouth fell open a little. She wasn’t expecting secret ops and illicit romances with spies - this was all very dramatic. Fitz was clearly enjoying himself as he continued with his tale.

“But she told him who she really was, and that she really had feelings for him, so they got married, and he went to America with her.”

“Oh, how romantic!” she exclaimed.

“Well, it’s not really, because it didn’t work out when she went undercover again, so they got divorced and he came back here, which is how he ended up in the flat with me. He got a job as a bouncer in a posh nightclub.”

Fitz paused to fill his cup from the pot again, and offer some to Jemma, who pushed her cup forward for a top-up. He added another sugar to his own cup, and began stirring, as he went on. 

“And then last year he found out that Bobbi – that’s his ex-wife, Bobbi – that she had met someone else, another CIA agent called Clint, and she was engaged. Hunter was devastated, he went into a downward spiral, began drinking heavily, and got into this bad relationship with this absolute sociopath of a woman… but that’s another story,” he said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand, as he started pouring milk into his tea. Jemma shook her head slowly in astonishment, agog at what sounded like the plot of a romantic thriller. Where on earth was this story going?!

“Anyway, about six months ago, Bobbi contacted Hunter and said that if he wanted to get his act together and stop wasting his skills and experience, she’d given his name to this guy, Phil Coulson, who runs this company called Shield. Bobbi and Clint had to leave the CIA when they got together and they started working for Shield as consultants. She says it’s a really good company, they basically create technology designed to assist law enforcement officers and government agents in the operation of their duties, and this Coulson and his wife, who runs the company with him, are both former FBI agents themselves, so they know what they’re doing and they really care about it. Anyway, Shield have this training division, where they actually train people to use the tech, and there was some scandal with their weapons specialist, apparently he turned out to be a corporate spy who was trying to steal their designs for a rival company or something?” 

Jemma’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

“Yeah, and what was worse was he was dating the Coulsons’ daughter at the time. So they were devastated.”

“No!” Jemma gasped. 

”I know! So, anyway, Hunter basically got offered this guy’s job. I mean, there’s another guy doing the job temporarily at the minute, but he’s going to Puerto Rico at the end of the summer, so they needed someone to replace him. So when Hunter was over there for his interview, he mentioned to Coulson that his mate was designing a forensic drone, and Coulson said he would be interested in taking a look at my research, and he did and he really liked it, so I have to go over with Hunter in June when he starts his training, and show them my prototype.” Fitz took a sip of his tea.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Jemma exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding during that fascinating tale. She didn’t know where to begin. “And… Hunter’s okay with working with his ex and her new fiancé?” 

“Oh, he’s her husband now, she and Clint got married recently. And she and Hunter are on friendly enough terms again, but they won’t be working together, really. Bobbi and Clint are on the road all the time, and training is a totally different division anyway. They’ll probably see each other from time to time, but it’s too good an opportunity for him to pass up.”

“Yeah,” Jemma responded, still slightly stunned. “And for you as well. I mean, the whole thing is just…incredible. It’s all so…”

“Serendipitous?” Fitz smiled at her. “Yeah, I know, it’s crazy, but my life’s been going like that lately. First with meeting Hunter, and getting this opportunity through him, and now with meeting you, which I wouldn’t have done if your ann… - if your sister wasn’t in always in our coffee shop. And we wouldn’t have got talking if it hadn’t been for the fact that you’d met my mum that time, so…” He blushed, and Jemma a glow inside at the thought that he believed meeting her was serendipity. 

“I mean, it’s not like I believe in fate, or anything like that,” he added quickly. “It’s just funny how life can turn out sometimes, the things that can happen to you because of lots of little coincidences or because of random people you meet…” His face was reddening now in a way that Jemma found irresistible, and she couldn’t help smiling when he gave an embarrassed chuckle.

“And now you’re going to New York, where a big company is going to manufacture your designs,” she breathed, unaccountably happy for this lovely, lovely man, a total stranger who served her a cup of tea two days ago, and yet unaccountably sad that in a few short months he might be leaving her life again. “Do you think they’ll offer you a job? Will you stay there permanently if they do?”

“Well, that’s the hope, isn’t it? It would be great,” he added wistfully. “But if all goes well, then Shield will be manufacturing your designs as well.” Jemma sat back in shock – it was honestly the first time this had occurred to her. 

“Maybe they’ll offer you a job as well? I’m emailing them tonight to tell them about our meeting, I’d imagine that they’ll probably want to meet you in June as well. Do you…do you think that’s something you’d be interested in?” He looked at her with what could only be described as a hopeful expression.

Jemma gazed at him for a moment in amazement, struggling to contain the excitement that was ready to burst out of her. “Um…yeah? I mean, yeah, definitely…that would be…” Not able to find anymore words, she nodded emphatically. Fitz’s face lit up and the two of them smiled bashfully at each other from across the table. 

Fitz was still smiling to himself when he opened the door of his flat. The meeting with Jemma couldn’t have gone better, and he was almost bouncing with excitement. This promised to be a very fruitful partnership, although… it was decidedly inconvenient that he was pretty much in love with her now. But despite the fact that she had told her sister he was ‘cute’, he knew that a woman like Jemma would never really go for a guy like him. She was brilliant, beautiful, kind and from a wealthy family. She could have any guy she wanted - she probably just said he was cute to annoy Charlotte. But still, he got to work with her for three months at least, and there was a possibility that she’d be coming to New York as well, and really, that was enough for him. Wasn’t it?

“Fitz? Is that you, mate?” Hunter’s voice called from the bathroom.

“Who the hell else would it be, coming into our…” Fitz stopped suddenly in the hall. “No! Hunter! That psycho Raina doesn’t still have a key to this place, does she?!”

Hunter appeared in the doorway, toothbrush in mouth, and a sheepish expression on his face. 

“Hunter! I thought you said you would take care of it! We’re going to have to ring the landlord and ask him to change the locks.”

Hunter took the toothbrush out of his mouth and threw his arms up in the air in a gesture of hopelessness. “I tried, mate, I really did, but you know what she’s like. She’s…prickly.”

“Prickly?! She’s downright certifiable, Hunter! She let herself in her while we were out, poured water into my Xbox and scratched all my games! Who does that?! Psychopaths, Hunter, that’s who! And she wasn’t even angry at me, it was you who dumped her!”

Hunter grimaced, and looked at his feet and back at Fitz. “Actually…she kind of was angry at you. She knew it was your Xbox.”

Fitz gaped at him. “What the fuck?! Why would she destroy my Xbox?! What did I ever do to her?”

“Well, spray-painting all my clothes - that was to get back at me when she found out I’d been Skyping with Bob, and that I was moving to New York. She thinks I’m going there to get back with Bobbi. But apparently she destroyed your Xbox because you laughed at her when she said she was psychic.”

“WHAT??! Well, of course I laughed at her! It’s scientifically impossible to see the future in your dreams, Hunter!! If she’s so psychic, then how come she didn’t see you dumping her coming, eh? I can’t believe this, she destroyed my Xbox for that?”

Hunter looked down at his feet again, toeing the carpet.

“If she comes in here again while we’re out, or even, god forbid, while we’re sleeping in our beds, I swear to fuck, Hunter, I’m calling the police!” Fitz practically shouted. “Not that I’ll get much sleep now, knowing she’s out there with a key to this flat. Why the hell did you even give it to her in the first place?”

“She talked me into it. You don’t know what she’s like, Fitz,” he moaned, as Fitz rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “She’s very manipulative. But in all honesty, mate, I don’t think we need to worry about Raina anymore. Apparently she’s taken up with some new guy, Gordon, so that’ll get her off my back.”

“It better had, Hunter. I swear, what is it with you and the constant drama? You have a thing for seriously messed up relationships…and seriously messed up women. Do you miss war that much?”

“What can I say?” Hunter shrugged deprecatingly and winked. “I’m a sucker for angry sex.”

Fitz groaned, and began pulling off his jacket as he walked into the kitchen. Hunter followed him.

“Hey, anyway,” Hunter smacked Fitz’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “How did it go today? With Jemma?”

Fitz scratched the back of his neck and smiled in spite of himself. Not even the spectre of Raina standing in his room with a can of spray paint – or worse - was enough to ruin this day. “Yeah, really well! We uh…we talked about a lot of ideas and I’m meeting her in her lab tomorrow to go over them.”

“Yeah?”

Fitz nodded happily.

“Mate, that’s fantastic! Now, what you want to do, when you’re finished in the lab tomorrow, is just casually ask if she fancies a drink. No big deal, just ‘do you want to grab a pint and we can chat about this some more’ kind of thing. No more of this tea business, your next move needs to involve alcohol of some description.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Hunter, there are no ‘moves’! That’s not…this is…we’re talking about a professional partnership, I’ll wreck it before it even begins if it looks like I’m trying to shag her!”

“Fitz, I’m just trying to help you out here.” Hunter walked to the fridge, and took out two beers. “You haven’t shut up about this girl since you came home from work on Monday, you’ve obviously got it bad. I’m not suggesting you make a move on her, just…you don’t need to keep it strictly professional all the time, is all I’m saying. Make it social, take it outside the lab or tea shop meetings. Show her you’re more than just a guy who spends all his time tinkering with gadgets.”

“But I am just a guy who spends all his time tinkering with gadgets!”

“Yeah, but just pretend you’re more than that,” Hunter smirked at him, and Fitz grinned. “Nah, seriously, mate,” Hunter continued in a rare earnest tone as he handed Fitz a beer, “all you need to do is be yourself. You’re a nice guy, and any girl would be lucky to have you. So take her for a drink, let her get to know you better. If nothing comes of it…then she’ll be missing out, is all I can say. And I can help you there - as you know I am the KING of moving on.”

Fitz snorted and Hunter laughed, as they raised their bottles at each other. Fitz took a drink and scratched his neck again. “Thanks, Hunter,” he said awkwardly. Then he screwed up his face as he remembered something. “How the hell can you drink beer when you’ve just brushed your teeth?!”

“I won’t lie to you, Fitz, it’s pretty horrible,” Hunter gasped, as he swallowed a mouthful. “But I felt the occasion called for a beer – male bonding always does.”

Fitz chuckled, as he raised his bottle to his lips again. “What time are you working at tonight?”

“Have to be there in an hour.”

“And you’re drinking now?”

Hunter shrugged. “I work in a bar. Don’t care anyway, I’m out of there in three months. And good riddance to the place, I’ve had enough of arguing with drunk, rich tossers every night.”

The next morning, Fitz woke early. Almost instantly he remembered that he’d be working with Jemma that day, and he felt the excitement building in his gut. He leapt out of bed to grab his phone He had sent off a lengthy email to Coulson the night before, detailing his meeting with her yesterday and he wanted to see if there was any reply yet. New York was five hours behind, Coulson would probably still have been at work when Fitz sent it. Sure enough, Coulson had sent an email saying this sounded like really great stuff and he was particularly excited about the gun with Jemma’s formula. They were to send him an update in a week’s time and he’d have a look at what they’d done so far. Fitz let out a ‘whoop’ in the middle of his room. Was it too early to call Jemma? It probably was, it wasn’t even eight yet. He would be seeing her in a couple of hours anyway, he should just wait until then to call her. Grinning to himself, he opened the door and crossed the hall to the bathroom. Just as he closed the bathroom door, he suddenly heard a muffled female voice coming from the kitchen. 

“Lance? Is this milk in the fridge okay? Laaaaance?”

Jesus wept, had he brought fucking Raina home again? What the hell was he thinking? Would he ever learn? Fitz opened the door and marched down the hall to the kitchen. If Hunter didn’t have the balls to deal with this situation, then Fitz would. He would get the damn key off her and throw her out right now. He came to an abrupt halt as he walked in the doorway of the kitchen. His throat constricted and his head felt like it was about to explode as he took in the sight in front of him. No. No, no, no. Nope. This was not happening. He turned straight round, marched back up the hall and burst into Hunter’s bedroom, startling his sleeping (and naked) flatmate into a bolt upright position. Hunter’s eyes were wide in alarm as he stared back at Fitz.

“Fitz?! What is it, is everything alright?”

“No, everything is absolutely bloody NOT alright, Lance! Do you mind telling me what the bloody fucking hell Charlotte Simmons is doing standing in our kitchen wearing nothing but your shirt?!”


	3. A Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz confronts Hunter about their unexpected house guest. He has a run-in with Charlotte that ruins everything for him. Jemma gets ready for her first day working with Fitz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to warn people who liked the fluff in the first two chapters - I'm afraid this chapter doesn't have any. This one gets a li'l angsty, as things get complicated for Fitz and Jemma. The angst will continue in the next chapter, but there will also be fluff to balance it out, so you won't have too long to wait. This fic was not intended to be heavy on the angst, this is more of a 'overcoming the evil nemesis who stands in the way of true love' kind of tale, so don't worry!

“Who?” Hunter was staring at him with a look of utter bewilderment.

“Charlotte Simmons,” Fitz hissed at him. “The Simmons girl. The one who’s made my working life an absolute misery over the past year. What the fuck is she doing in our kitchen?”

“That’s her?!!’ Hunter’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yes, Hunter, that’s her. I take it you didn’t get a name before you copulated with her?”

“Not a last name, anyway. Jesus! This is crazy! You mean, she’s…”

“Jemma’s sister, yes.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No way!”

“Hunter…”

“Are you serious?”

“Hunter, will you stop being so amazed?! Yes, I’m serious, that is Jemma’s sister, my customer from hell, that you slept with last night.”

“Ha!” Hunter barked an astonished laugh. “Unbelievable! I mean, what are the odds of that?!”

“We can debate the statistical probability of it some other time, Hunter,” Fitz sniped at him, “but I have to meet Jemma in two hours, to begin work on a project that could change my entire life, and I’m not exactly sure that the best way to begin our working relationship is greeting her with, ‘Hey, Jemma, you’ll never guess what, totally not awkward or anything, but I ran into your little sister half naked in my kitchen this morning, after she spent a night of passion with my degenerate flatmate, how crazy is that?!’”

“So don’t tell her anything!” Hunter responded exasperatedly. “It’s none of her business anyway, what her sister does in her private life.” Fitz suddenly held up his hand to silence him, and the two paused as they listened to Charlotte’s footsteps coming down the hall, and then the sound of the bathroom door closing. Fitz turned back to Hunter.

“So I don’t say anything about the fact her sister was in my flat this morning?” he whispered incredulously.

“No, of course not, you muppet! Do you honestly think she’d want to know that?”

“But…but…I’d be lying to her!” Fitz exclaimed.

“Not telling the truth is not the same thing as lying, Fitz,” Hunter said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Take it from someone experienced in undercover ops, sometimes you need to keep things to yourself in order to protect people.”

“That’s rich, coming from you! I thought you divorced your wife for doing that exact thing? And don’t stand up, I don’t want to see your… bits.” Fitz held up his hand to stop him moving off the bed, and averted his eyes.

“It wasn’t the fact that she was keeping things from me, it was what she was keeping from me that was the problem,” Hunter retorted, as he reached for his underwear on the floor. “Which is why I know what I’m talking about here. Besides, technically, it’s not your secret to share, is it? You’re not keeping anything you’ve done from Jemma. You’ve done nothing wrong here, Fitz, it’s just…not your business.” He pulled on his trunks and stood up.

Fitz sighed. This actually made sense. And Hunter was right, he had seen how much Jemma worried about Charlotte yesterday, she probably wouldn’t want to know that she had got off with a random bouncer on a night out.

“How the hell did this happen, anyway? Did you meet her at the club?”

“Aw, man, it was wild,” Hunter chuckled, as he reached for a bottle of water beside his bed.

Fitz groaned. “I don’t want to know, I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, no, listen! It was crazy! I was sent for by the bar staff because she was kicking off at some 19 year-old kid who just started working there this week, something about how he’d messed up her drinks order.”

“Ah, classic Charlotte,” Fitz sighed. “Been there many times. And that wasn’t your first clue that this was a bad idea?”

“I’d had a couple of beers before I left the house, as you know, and I wasn’t in the mood for that shite, and so we got into it. She threatened to have me fired, and I was telling her to go ahead, because I was sick of having to deal with stuck up, spoiled, arrogant little ‘daddy buy me a pony’ shits like her anyway, and the next thing I know, we’re just going at it. I mean, like, just ripping each other’s clothes off, crazy aggressive stuff.”

Fitz stared at him, aghast. “In the middle of the club?!”

“Well, no…we were in the corridor, and then I pushed her into a store cupboard, and we did it in there. Just the once, then we came back here for a few more goes. I’m surprised you didn’t hear us, it was some of the best sex of my life. The woman is an animal!” Hunter smirked in remembrance and took a drink of his water.

“Ew! God! I’m definitely sorry I asked,” Fitz said in a disgusted voice. “You’re right, Jemma’s better off not knowing that. Although,” he said, as he paused and allowed himself a small smile, “I have to admit that knowing that the high and mighty ‘Miss Simmons’ isn’t above shagging a bouncer in a store cupboard has cheered me up a bit.” They both sniggered at that. “By the way,” Fitz added curiously, “what’s with her calling you Lance as well?”

“Oh, I always give my first name to girls. I hate it, but women seem to love it, so…” Hunter shrugged. “What did she say when you walked in the kitchen, anyway?” he inquired.

“She was looking in a cupboard, she didn’t see me,” Fitz grinned. “I’m in my boxers, for god’s sake, I hightailed it out of there before she looked round.” The sound of the bathroom door being unlocked resonated down the hall, and they both paused again.

“Lance? Where the fuck is your coffee machine?” they heard Charlotte whine in her high-pitched cut-glass tones.

She was moving in the direction of the bedroom now. Fitz momentarily panicked, rapidly calculating the odds of getting back to his own room without her seeing him in his underwear. He decided it was impossible and grabbed a pair of Hunter’s tracksuit bottoms which were lying on top of his wicker laundry basket. He hurriedly stepped into them, and had just finished pulling them up when Charlotte appeared in the doorway. She froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights as she saw Fitz standing there.

“You?!”

“Hello, Miss Simmons,” Fitz greeted her, in a falsely pleasant tone.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I live here. The question is what are you doing here? Doesn’t really seem like your neck of the woods.” He gave her a mocking smile.

Charlotte looked momentarily shaken, glancing from Fitz to Hunter and back again, before regaining her composure and flashing him a smug look. “Well, this is rather convenient, actually. Because now you can get me a coffee.”

Fitz inhaled sharply, as Hunter quickly pushed past them both, muttering something about taking a shower, before ducking out of the room. Fitz stared back at Charlotte’s self-satisfied smirk for a moment, before answering in a level tone: “This is my home. I’m not at work now. I don’t know what you think baristas do when they’re at home, but we’re actually not in the habit of spending our free time fetching lattes for our flatmates’ one night stands.”

Charlotte gaped at him. “You’re comfortable talking to me like that?”

“As I said, Miss Simmons,” Fitz smiled coolly at her, “this is my home, and you are a guest here, not a customer.” He walked past her out into the hall, calling over his shoulder, “I can certainly show you where we keep the tea and coffee, and you can help yourself.” She followed him into the hall, as he walked towards the kitchen and he smirked as he felt her glare at the back of his head. “But I must warn you,” he continued, “we do not have a coffee machine of any description. We only have instant coffee, not filter, so it will not be up to your usual standards, I’m afraid. I would make it for you myself, but I’m in a bit of a hurry since I have to meet your sister at her lab in a while. I’ll tell her you said hello, I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear you’re making new friends.”

He turned to face her as they entered the kitchen, and smiled evilly at her. He had no intention of saying anything to Jemma, but he wasn’t going to tell Charlotte that. Hunter was right, Charlotte was a grown woman and her sex life was none of Jemma’s business – nor his. But he suspected that a society girl like Charlotte would prefer her sister not know about her sordid encounter with a nightclub doorman.

Sure enough, she glared back at him, her arms folded across her chest, before she lifted her chin and said lightly: “Go ahead. Tell her whatever you want. So, I like a bit of rough now and then, what of it? I’m sure Jemma will be fascinated to hear all about it – after all, Lance is totally her type, you know. She likes guys with good physiques,” she added, casting a critical eye over Fitz’s. “And don’t be fooled by that buttoned-up, academic exterior,” she said as she met his eye, smirking, “she’s not averse to a bit of casual sex herself.”

Fitz felt this gibe like a punch to the gut. Don’t let her get to you, he warned himself. She’s deliberately trying to push your buttons. “Well, let’s face it, Charlotte, who isn’t?” he said with a conspiratorial wink. “But, quite frankly, Jemma’s private life is her own concern, and not any of my business. I’m just her research partner.” He smiled evenly at her.

“Well, of course you are,” she replied sweetly. “Your interest in her is purely scientific, isn’t it? It’s not like you’re some pathetic loser going on about some big invention that’s going to make him rich and pretending that you need her help, just so that you can get into her knickers, or anything.”

“Oh, is that what you think I’m doing?” he responded. “Well, that’s quite the dastardly scheme, I must say. Some guys learn guitar to pick up women, I thought an engineering PhD was the way to go. The old ‘do you want to come up and look at my gadgets’ line – never fails,” he snapped sarcastically. He folded his arms and glared at her. “Do you understand that your sister is a genius and has invented a formula that could revolutionise law enforcement, international intelligence, even warfare? I mean, obviously yes, she’s very pretty, and by some strange quirk of genetics, she happens to be a wonderful person even though she’s biologically related to you, but believe me when I tell you that her work is so much more incredibly important than whether or not I get laid,” he fired at her.

Charlotte leaned back slightly and folded her arms as she regarded him. She was silent for a moment, before a sly smile crept across her face and she remarked, “Well, if that’s the case, I hope you get some use out of her then, Fitz, if she’s not going to sleep with you. I really mean that, I hope this little project of yours works out for you. I mean,” she sighed, glancing upwards, “that job in the coffee shop isn’t the most secure career path, is it? Just one word from an irate customer would be all it would take for you to be fired.” She flashed a wide-eyed, innocent look at him.

Fitz stared at her in shock. “Are you threatening me?” he almost whispered.

“No threat,” she said airily. “Just stating a fact. And if you had a history of complaints against you, from one of the café’s most important customers, well…” She let her words trail off, as she examined her nails.

“Are you absolutely fucking kidding me?” Fitz kept his voice low and even in an effort to maintain his composure. “You are honestly threatening to have me fired if I tell Jemma about you and Hunter? Is this seriously happening?”

She shrugged at him. 

“You know what, Charlotte,” he responded angrily, “I wasn’t even going to say anything to Jemma, because it was none of my business, but I’m damn sure she’s going to hear about this now. Say whatever you want to my boss, I’m off to America in three months anyway.”

“Yes, but I’m sure you still have rent to pay for this…place… for the next three months, do you not?” she countered, looking around the flat with a look of distaste. “And I would be careful, if I were you, not to get my hopes up about America too much,” she went on with a sympathetic tone. “You just never know what can happen.” Fitz physically flinched at this and stared at her as if she’d just slapped him.

“You see, Fitz,” she began, moving to the tiny kitchen table and pulling out a chair, “the thing is that my father is a very wealthy and powerful man. He is, in fact, the owner of a very big, very successful, multi-national company. You didn’t know that?” she asked, with some satisfaction as she glanced at the astounded expression on Fitz’s face. She sat down on the chair and faced him. “I’m surprised Jemma didn’t tell you that – well, no, actually, I’m not. Jemma likes to think she’s above all that money stuff, science is what matters to her. But the truth is, Fitz, she’s not above it, because she and I and my brother will inherit my father’s fortune someday. So, you can imagine that our parents take a great interest in the people we associate with, as whomever we marry will have access to that money as well. So, it’s important that we all marry other people from wealthy, important families, people who can bring more money and connections and status to the table, rather than taking them, so to speak. So even if - let’s say for the sake of argument - Jemma was actually interested in you, I’m afraid nothing would ever be able to come of it. I don’t think my parents wouldn’t be happy that she was involved with some barista…or even an engineer, for that matter.”

Her words hit him like a cold sting in his gut and he faltered for a moment, swallowing as he stared back at her. The smug look on Charlotte’s face as she observed how she was getting to him spurred his resolve to not back down from her. “Oh, really?” he countered snidely. “And what would they think if they knew you had a thing for nightclub bouncers?”

“Well, it’s not like I would ever been seen dead with Lance in public, so they would never know,” she replied serenely. “You see, there are reasons, Fitz, why this can never get out. Reasons why I’m not comfortable with someone like you having this knowledge. This gives you a hold over me and I couldn’t allow that. I can’t even allow Jemma to have this kind of hold over me.”

Fitz opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. What was she, some kind of Bond villain?! This absolute lunatic believed that he – let alone Jemma - would be capable of, or even interested in, blackmailing her? Just because it was clearly her modus operandi in a tight spot. And what the hell did it matter whether people found out that she slept with Hunter? Was it really that much of a scandal that a socialite had a one-night stand with a bouncer? Heiresses were on the front of tabloids for much worse.

Charlotte continued in an eerily calm voice. “So that’s why it’s really important that you understand that my father could easily be persuaded to find out what he can about this American company that you’re hoping to work for and perhaps have a word in the CEO’s ear. After all, he operates at that level…probably even higher than that.”

Fitz’s heart thudded to a halt in his chest and his mouth went dry. He froze on the spot, as he stared back at Charlotte’s sugary sweet expression. He swallowed several times, trying to work up enough saliva moisten his mouth enough to let him speak. “That…that doesn’t make any sense. There’s no way you could do that. If Shield is interested in my work – and Jemma’s, by the way - if they think it’s valuable to them, there’s no way they’re going to pass on it just because the head of some big company in England tells them his daughter doesn’t like me."

“Fitz,” she sighed in mock patience. “My father is used to making multi-million dollar deals before breakfast. If he thought for one minute that someone had done something to upset his daughter, then he would find a way to make sure that individual had no other choice but to spend the rest of his days making tea in his mum’s café. After all, this…Shield, was it?...wouldn’t have to know why my father thought they shouldn’t hire you. They’d believe whatever he told them. And he’d believe whatever I told him.”  
Fitz was positively shaking with rage now. “You do realise that if you did that, you’d be ruining an opportunity for Jemma as well,” he said quietly.

Charlotte let out a peal of laughter which chilled him. “Oh, Fitz!” she said, reprovingly. “You really think my parents are going to let Jemma sail off to America to make gadgets for some company? Have you listened to a word I’ve said? Right now, my mother’s hunting down all sorts of prestigious posts for Jemma as soon as she’s finished her PhD. Something with status, something that will impress the kinds of families that my parents socialise with. So that’s why you’re not going to say anything to Jemma about me and Hunter, and you’ll keep your job at the coffee shop until you go off to America with your little invention and forget all about my sister.” She sat back in the chair and smiled at him. “By the way, I’ll take that coffee now.”

Numb with shock, Fitz stared at her for a moment, before he realised that he was utterly defeated here. This girl was nothing but a spoiled, manipulative brat who was livid that he’d caught her in a position that could potentially embarrass her. However, she had influence among powerful people, and that made her very dangerous. She could ruin his life just out of petty spite if she wanted. He turned around and moved slowly towards the kettle, with a strange sensation of feeling like he was floating outside his body. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening to him. With shaking hands, he switched the kettle on, and opened the cupboard in front of him to take out the jar of coffee and a mug.

“Oh, and Fitz?”

He froze in the act of putting a teaspoon into the jar and stared straight ahead, as he waited for her next order.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to mention this conversation to Lance either.”

Fitz ferociously jabbed the spoon into the coffee. 

Jemma stood panting on the doorstep of the townhouse as she timed her pulse. She gave a little smile as she calculated the result, wiped the sweat off her face and took a slug of her water, before opening the door. Poppy, Charlotte’s miniature Yorkshire terrier came running down the hall to greet her, yapping around her ankles. Jemma ripped her iPad holder off her arm, throwing it down on the hall table with her keys, and picked up the dog. She dodged Poppy’s enthusiastic face-licking attempts as she made her way down the hall. She entered the kitchen and frowned. There was still no sign of Charlotte. Normally by the time Jemma got back from her morning run, Charlotte would have finished her Pilates and be sitting down to her egg white omelette and almond latte. The mornings were really the only time she and her sister were ever together. That’s why Jemma had suggested meeting up in Charlotte’s favourite coffee place the other day, for a bit of sisterly bonding. That hadn’t gone too well. Apart from meeting Fitz, of course. She gave a little smile to herself as she scratched Poppy’s head. She was really excited about working with him today. She wondered if he’d heard anything back from Shield yet.

She lifted some coconut water from the fridge, as she thought about how fortunate she was. This house belonged to her parents, but as they spent most of their time on the estate in Devon these days, Jemma and Charlotte had it to themselves. She felt very guilty about the fact that she lived in luxury and never had to worry about money, whereas Fitz was putting himself through his PhD by spending his days making coffee for ungrateful people like Charlotte. She shook her head in empathy. She really hoped this thing for Shield worked out for him, he really deserved it. And, she barely dared hope…just maybe it could work out for her too. The idea of moving to New York and working side by side with Fitz on their ideas made her almost giddy. Not to mention she’d be away from her family as well. That almost seemed too much to hope for. She wasn’t going to get ahead of herself. She needed to wait and see if New York had even the remotest possibility of happening yet. And even if it did, there was the rather giant hurdle of having to break it to her mother that she was not inclined to accept any of the deathly dull jobs she was canvassing for on Jemma’s behalf. She knew her parents wouldn’t like the idea of her going to New York to work for Shield, and it was going to take some persuading to get them to assent.

She sighed as she sat down at the table to drink her coconut water. Her thoughts returned to Charlotte. She had gone out last night and it was entirely possible that she hadn’t come home. It wouldn’t be the first time. Charlotte made her own hours at their father’s company, so it looked like she wasn’t planning to go in this morning. Jemma wondered if Jonathan Townsend was back in town and if Charlotte had spent the night with him. He was the son and sole heir of an extremely wealthy industrialist and had been voted one of the most eligible bachelors in the UK by some ridiculous society magazine. Charlotte had spent the last week ensuring that everyone she met was informed of this fact, after mentioning that she’d recently been out on two dates with him and had arranged a third. Jemma knew Charlotte well enough to know that she had big plans for Jonathan - she’d been after him long enough. Charlotte was a habitual power dater, but Jonathan was definitely her biggest catch so far. Their mother had been breathless with excitement over it, and Jemma had the wry thought that her mother was probably already planning Charlotte and Jonathan’s wedding in her head.

There was a selfish part of her that really hoped that this worked out for Charlotte, even though, having met Jonathan once, Jemma knew he was a massive arsehole. Maybe if Charlotte landed herself a wealthy husband, there would be less pressure on Jemma to find one, something that she couldn’t be less interested in if she tried. She had resisted every attempt of her mother’s to set her up with some boring society twat whose eyes glazed over when Jemma started to talk about her work, and changed the topic to a recitation of their investment portfolio or polo successes instead. They clearly thought that Jemma should be impressed by these, although she never understood why. She had been told more than once that her lack of response to such feats was “off-putting”. She was perversely delighted by this.

Thinking about such mind-numbing encounters made Jemma think of Fitz again and how incredibly interesting she found him. She found herself briefly wondering what her parents would make of him as she set Poppy down and began climbing the stairs to take a shower. She immediately scolded herself for letting her thoughts run along those lines. She had determined to keep her relationship with Fitz professional. They needed to focus on getting these drones and dendrotoxin guns functional. She wanted to at least get Fitz that job with Shield, even if nothing came of it for her. She dismissed from her mind the thought that it might just break her heart for him to go off to New York without her.


	4. Strictly Professional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz have their first day of working together. There is awkwardness, angst, bonding, a little flirting and a whole lot of fluff.

Jemma’s nerves had gone into overdrive by the time she arrived at the lab. She had made sure that she was ten minutes early so she could set everything up before Fitz arrived. She left word with security that they should call the lab when he arrived, so that she could come down and sign him in. When the phone call came butterflies took flight in her tummy, and she all but raced down the stairs to greet him. She glimpsed him through the glass door to the foyer, standing at the reception desk with his bag over his shoulder and a small black case in one hand. Her heart did a little flip. He was wearing a cobalt shirt under a navy jacket, perfectly emphasising the electric blue of his eyes. He looked handsome, even more so than she had previously thought. She pulled open the door, and greeted him breathlessly.

“Fitz! Hi!” She cursed herself for being unable to contain the huge smile that his mere presence evoked. He looked up, and for a split second, she saw a light in his eyes as he met hers. But just as suddenly, his expression sobered and he returned her greeting with a nod and tight smile. She faltered as she walked towards him, confused by his reaction. He was oddly distant after the way they’d clicked yesterday, and her first thought was that she’d done something to upset him. She stole surreptitious glances at him while she signed him in, puzzling over his response to her. He avoided her gaze, fiddling with his bag instead. She could see the muscles in his jaw working, as if he were repressing a strong emotion. All at once the excitement in her gut turned to fear. Shield didn’t like my ideas, they don’t want me and he’s too afraid to tell me, she thought. In a daze she moved back towards the door, and held it open for him, gesturing to him with a slight nod of her head. He gave her an almost apologetic smile as he walked past her, only confirming her fears. He turned round at the bottom of the stairs to face her.

“Ah…so…I sent that email to Shield last night,” he began hesitantly, “and I got Coulson’s reply this morning.”

Jemma’s stomach dropped. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the disappointment. 

“He loved your ideas, and he’s especially excited about the dendrotoxin – he says they’ve been trying to formulate something like that for ages and nobody there has been able to come up with anything. He liked the idea of the gun too.”

Jemma stared at him in amazement. “Really?” 

His smile was warmer now as he nodded and said, “Yeah.”

“He liked it? All of it?”

“Yeah, he loved it, Jemma. All of it. He wants an update on our progress next week.”

Jemma shook her head, still processing this. “But what…is there bad news too?”

Fitz looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. “No. No, there’s not, it’s all good. Why do you think there’s bad news?”

Jemma searched his face. “I don’t know, you seem… you were so excited yesterday and now you just seem…subdued. I just feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Something flashed over Fitz’s face and she saw his jaw muscles momentarily flex again. He gave her another tight smile. “It’s nothing. Just…personal stuff. It’s got nothing to do with this, don’t worry. I’m sorry I if I scared you. This is all good. I’m looking forward to it actually. You have no idea how much,” he muttered as an afterthought, stepping aside to let her lead him up the stairs.

Jemma breathed a sigh of relief, and let out a shaky laugh. “I’m really looking forward to it as well. I’m so glad Coulson liked our ideas, I thought there for a minute…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Fitz shook his head in remonstrance at himself.

“I’m sorry about whatever it is that’s upsetting you. I hope whatever it is gets resolved soon,” she said, casting him a concerned look as she began her ascent up the stairs. 

“Yeah, so do I,” he replied in a surprisingly bitter tone. 

Jemma fell silent. She felt a strange sense of hurt that he didn’t confide his problem to her. She wondered at herself. Why should he, she wasn’t part of his life. It didn’t make any sense. She reminded herself that although she felt like she’d known him for ever, she had actually only met this man a matter of days ago. The reality was that she knew nothing about him. This was a research partnership after all, not a relationship. She was already letting the boundaries blur, and she needed to redraw them. They had tea together once, that was it. They needed to focus on the project in hand, and she needed to put all thoughts of anything else out of her head. 

There was a clear awkwardness to the proceedings as she showed him around the lab, with Fitz’s mind obviously somewhere else. Maybe there is a girlfriend after all, Jemma thought sadly to herself. Or a boyfriend, she realised. Just because Hunter turned out to his flatmate, didn’t mean Fitz wasn’t gay. Then she chided herself for only thinking in terms of what would be most upsetting to her. Why was she assuming his problems were romantic in nature? Somebody could be dying, for god’s sake. Or maybe he was getting evicted and was too proud to say. She suddenly found herself wishing that she knew what it was. Maybe it was something she could help him with. Although they hardly knew each other, she wished he would open up to her. If he was going to be withdrawn and taciturn all day, and she was going to be moping over him like a teenager with an unrequited crush, then this was going to be a disaster. 

Fitz placed the black case on the table in front of them and took out the prototype that he had designed. She made an appreciative noise as she inspected it. Fitz looked pleased in spite of himself and proceeded to demonstrate it. Almost instantly, his demeanour began to change as he explained how the drone worked. Jemma watched him, a sense of relief spreading warmth throughout her insides as she saw his infectious enthusiasm coming to the fore. His eyes lit up, a smile spread across his face, and his voice became infused with passion, just like it had been the day before. She tried to overlook the fact that she was finding this inexplicably sexy and instead forced herself focus on what he was saying. Which was, in fact, incredibly fascinating. And when he started cracking jokes, she laughed partly out of genuine amusement and partly out of sheer relief that they were connecting again.

The rest of the day went like a dream. It turned out that, professionally at least, the two of them fit perfectly together. Working with Fitz was effortless - the back and forth of ideas and arguments and suggestions and compromises became like second nature to them. She found that they were very much on the same wavelength – there were several occasions throughout the day that they seemed to have the same thought at the same time, and by the end of the day they were so in sync they were even finishing each other’s sentences. It was almost like they were psychically linked – if one believed in such a thing. Jemma had never had this kind of instant bond with anyone before, and she found it both exhilarating and confusing. As a biochemist she knew that these feelings were the result of hormones and neuro-transmitters being released into her system, but she had never met anyone who had caused such a flood of these inside her, and in such a short space of time. It almost felt like she was losing control. Her resolve to keep this relationship on a strictly professional basis was crumbling by the minute.

The day was over before she realised it and as they were packing up to leave, she was struck by a sudden sense of loss at his departure. She had no idea what came over her – she was simply seized by a desperate need to stay in his company, and she heard herself utter the words before she was fully conscious of what it was she was saying: “If you’re not doing anything now, there’s a pub across the road, if you’d like to go for a drink.”

She almost clapped her hand over her mouth. Had she just asked him out? Oh God! Well done, Jemma, your professional boundaries didn’t even hold one day, she thought wryly. She immediately focused her attention on putting papers into her bag, in an effort to appear entirely nonchalant about his response.

Which was a long time in coming.

“Um,” he replied, and then fell silent. And stayed silent. Slowly dying inside as she waited for him to speak, Jemma stole a glance at his face. She could see his brain working, as if there was some internal battle being waged in his mind. He’s probably trying to think of a polite way to turn me down, she thought dejectedly.

“I mean, don’t worry about it if you have somewhere else to be,” she put in quickly. “I just thought…you know...maybe we could do with a drink after all that work…and to celebrate our new working, you know…professional relationship…as colleagues…obviously.” She willed herself to stop talking. 

“I…don’t…I don’t think so, Jemma, not…not at the minute… I have to…there’s a lot…I have to…,” Fitz finally stammered. 

“Oh no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” she said airily, waving it away, and hoping he wouldn’t notice that her voice had just gone up an octave. “No big deal, it’s no problem. You’re probably right, I have a lot to stuff to do anyway, I’ve so much work to do this weekend, I should probably get started on it tonight.” She grabbed her coat, and began fumbling with it, cursing herself for her foolishness. She prayed that the tears that were threatening would at least grant her the mercy of waiting until she was out of his sight. She could not believe she had just ruined this on the first day. It was going to be so awkward from now on. And painful.

“Jemma, wait,” Fitz’s voice sounded suddenly decisive. She turned around to face him with what she hoped looked like a smile and not a desperate, crumbling attempt to hold back tears. Fitz was gazing at her with an unreadable expression. He inhaled deeply, and said, “To hell with it. I’d love to go for a drink.”

The Brass Monkey was filling up rapidly, it being five o’clock on a Friday, but they managed to snag themselves a table in the corner. Fitz went to the bar, bringing back a white wine for Jemma and a pint of lager for himself. They started chatting about what they had done that day and before they knew it, they had both finished their drinks. Jemma insisted on going up this time, and when she returned, Fitz was taking in his surroundings.

“This place is really nice,” he remarked, as Jemma placed the drinks on the table. “I suppose you’re in here all the time?”

“This is literally the third time I’ve ever been in here,” she replied. “I came here one night when I first started this PhD with some of the other students from the lab, in a vain attempt to be sociable, and I came here for lunch one other time with my supervisor.”

“That’s it?” Fitz was incredulous. “How long have you been here, three years?”

Jemma nodded. “Yup! Pretty sad, isn’t it? The reason that I’ve been able to do two PhDs in five years is because I spend more or less every waking minute in the lab. I really don’t get out much, Fitz.”

“Nah, me neither,” he replied. “Between work and study, the sum total of my social life is going to my local pub for a pint the odd night when Hunter’s not working. We’ve even done the pub quiz a few times. Hunter’s great with the sports questions, and I’m pretty good with everything else, although we’re absolutely hopeless when it comes to entertainment.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” Jemma exclaimed. “I’m envious of your social life, it sounds manageable and civilised.”

“Civilised?! Oh god, no! It’s anything but. I’m afraid we can both be a little competitive and things tend to get ugly when we lose. We’ve almost been barred several times. I keep telling the quiz master that his answers are wrong and Hunter makes sarcastic comments that annoy the locals. If they’re drunk enough they’ll try to start a fight with him, until they discover he’s an SAS vet - usually when he’s restraining them in some kind of choke hold. The whole thing has literally ended in bloodshed – some guy busted his own nose once when he swung for Hunter and missed him and punched himself instead. I’m not kidding, he literally punched himself in the face!”

Jemma giggled uncontrollably, feeling very happy. It had been a long time since she’d had a drink with a man, and she couldn’t remember it ever being as pleasant as this.

“What is quite civilised,” Fitz continued, “is whenever I have a Sunday afternoon off, we usually go there for Sunday lunch. The locals are always too hungover to pay attention to us, so it’s nice, there’s no fighting.”

“Oh, I haven’t had Sunday lunch in ages,” Jemma groaned. “I really miss it.”

“You don’t have it at home?” Fitz inquired.

“No, there’s no point, it’s usually just me. Charlotte’s normally either out or too hungover to eat. She doesn’t eat carbs anyway.”

Fitz’s face appeared to darken at that, and he started picking at his coaster. “You live with her?” he asked, not looking at Jemma. He really doesn’t like my sister, Jemma thought, her heart sinking. She deeply regretted the fact that Fitz had encountered Charlotte before Jemma met him.

“Yeah, we live in a house my parents own, in Highgate. Not that either of us are ever actually there,” she replied.

“And you don’t go to them for Sunday lunch? Your parents, I mean.”

“No, they live in Devon. That’s where I grew up actually. In Ashburton.”

“Ah, I didn’t know that. I just assumed you were from here. Yeah, Devon’s a bit of a long drive for Sunday lunch,” he grinned. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Jemma smiled. “I love it. I don’t get back as often as I’d like, I’m always so busy at the weekends. Also,” she sighed, “whenever I do go home, my mother always insists on me attending all these awful bloody social functions. And I hate them, I don’t know how to make small talk, I’m awkward as anything and I just find all those people so boring. I mean, I just want to walk on the beach or ride my horse.”

Fitz’s eyes widened. “You have a horse?!” he asked in disbelief.

Jemma grimaced in embarrassment. She hating sounded like a privileged brat. “Well, yes, we have quite a few horses. My parents have…a big house. And some land, you see. An estate, really. My horse is called Peggy. I’ve been riding since I was about six or seven. This all sounds terribly upper class, I know,” she sighed. “I suppose it is.” She took a sip of her wine to cover her discomfort. 

Fitz smiled gently at her. “It’s surprising to me that you come from money. You don’t give off that vibe at all. A nice, middle-class girl, yes. But not a society girl.”

“Oh heavens, no!” Jemma exclaimed. “I hate all that stuff. My mother spends her life entertaining and socialising and going to things and hosting things. Charlotte has basically started to do the same now. That’s a nightmare to me. I’m much happier in my lab. Although I do like my horse!” She laughed and Fitz smiled at that. “And I wouldn’t mind Sunday lunch every once in a while,” she added wistfully. 

Fitz looked down and fiddled with the coaster for a moment, before sitting back and lifting his glass. He hugged it to his chest, and looked out the window as he said, “You know, I’m doing the breakfast shift on Sunday and then I get off at 12. We could… go for Sunday lunch then… if you wanted? Seeing as how you haven’t had it in ages.” He took a drink of his beer.

Jemma gave him a delighted smile. “Yes! That’d be great. I’d love to!” she beamed at him. 

“Okay. But not at my local. I wouldn’t take you in there, to be honest. And the roast beef’s really dry. But there’s a bar in Greenwich that does really good Sunday lunch, I took my mum there when she came down to visit me one time. It’s overlooking the Thames as well, and if the weather’s nice, we can sit outside beside the river.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” Jemma breathed. “Yes, let’s do that.”

“If you’re coming from Highgate, the coffee shop is on the way, do you want to meet me there?” Fitz asked. “If you come early, I can even give you a pot of tea on the house,” he grinned. 

“Oh, well, how could I refuse an offer like that?” Jemma replied laughing, as she raised her wine glass to her lips. 

Another drink later and they both realised they were hungry. Fitz ordered a burger and chips, and Jemma deliberated over a pasta dish or a salad before deciding just to get the burger as well. Over dinner they chatted about their respective childhoods and academic careers. Fitz appeared horrified at the idea of little Jemma being sent off to boarding school, whilst she was appalled by his stories of being bullied in the state school he had attended. He credited such experiences with the ‘smart mouth’ he had developed, finding sarcasm and verbal putdowns to be the single most effective deterrent to his tormentors.

“Were you bullied because of your academic achievement?” she asked him, cradling her wine after her meal.

“Partly that. It was a lot of things, really. I was small and skinny and not very good at sports. Also…” He paused, seeming to contemplate something to himself. He put down his glass and pushed himself back from the table. “Alright,” he suddenly declared. “It’s time. If we’re going to be working together, then there’s something you have to know. It’s going to come out eventually, so we may as well get it over with now.”

Despite the pleasant wine-induced buzz she was feeling, Jemma felt panic settle low in her stomach again. She swallowed and placed her glass on the table, bracing herself for whatever was coming.

Fitz seemed to hesitate, and then began. “The reason why I go exclusively by my surname, why I don’t like being called Leo, is because…well…Leo is actually short for…” he took a deep breath…“Leopold.”

“No!” Jemma leaned forward in a rush of relief, amusement and genuine astonishment.

“I’m afraid so,” he nodded regretfully, with a hint of mirth dancing in his eyes.

“You’re winding me up!”

“I’m really not.”

“No way! No-one’s called Leopold!”

“I can prove it. I can show you my driving licence.” He reached into his pocket and handed it to her.

Jemma inspected it, and promptly let out a hoot of laughter, earning herself a huge grin from Fitz. “Leopold Fitz! As I live and breathe! That really is your name.”

“Yup!”

“How?! Your mother struck me as such a kind, decent human being. I can’t believe she’d do this to her only child!”

Fitz chuckled heartily at that. “Thanks very much, by the way, for your encouraging reassurance that it’s a perfectly fine name and that I have nothing to be embarrassed about, Jemma! That’s lifted me right up, that has!”

Jemma covered her mouth with his licence. “I’m sorry,” she apologised through her giggles. “It’s the shock, I’ve literally never met anyone else who was called Leopold. I just didn’t think it was possible.”

“Yeah, try growing up with it!” he laughed, as he took a drink of his pint. “Yeah, my mum didn’t actually have much to do with it – although she liked the name Leo, which is why she agreed to it. She’s always called me Leo. No-one’s ever actually called me ‘Leopold’ – I didn’t even realise that was my name until I went to school. I was humiliated when I found out - I was so angry with my mum!” They both laughed at that. “She told me she really wasn’t given much choice in the matter. It’s a family name, you see.”

“Leopold’s a family name in Scotland?!” Jemma exclaimed incredulously.

“Not usually, no! My great-grandfather was German.”

“Ah! And you were named after him?”

Fitz’s countenance sobered slightly. He played with his pint glass. “Actually I was named after my dad. He was named after his uncle, who was named after his father, the original Leopold.”

Jemma sensed they had veered into a delicate area. She remembered that Fitz’s mother had talked about raising him on her own. Resting her arms on the table, she leaned towards him and gently prompted. “What happened to your dad?”

“He died.”

“Oh god, Fitz, I’m so sorry!” She reached out her hand and rested it on his arm.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her quickly. “I was really young, I don’t really remember him.” As he was saying this he glanced down, almost in surprise, at her hand. Jemma withdrew it, feeling embarrassed. Fitz looked up at her face then, fixing a gaze on her that left her breathless. Feeling weak, she lowered her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear.  
“How come you’re so nice?” he said suddenly. Jemma looked up, surprised. 

“What?”

“Well, you’re just such a nice person, you’re really…warm and kind and…well, that hasn’t exactly been my experience of your sister,” he said sheepishly. Jemma gave him a regretful smile in silent apology of Charlotte’s behaviour. “And I mean, you’re brilliant, so you know, you have every right to be arrogant, and you’re so beau…you’re so…rich and you were sent off to boarding school as a child…there’s just so many reasons why you could be superior or self-important or mean-spirited…but you’re not, you’re so nice, you’re basically the nicest person I’ve ever met. And just…how?”

Jemma felt her face grew hot. Overwhelmed, she flailed about for an appropriate response. “Oh, I’m not that nice,” she countered. “Really, I’m not,” she said, as Fitz began to protest. “You haven’t seen my bad side yet. I can be very smug, and a bit condescending. I’m a complete know-it-all, and I’m bossy – which is why none of my colleagues have invited me out with them again since the first night we came here. And I’m very opinionated; I can be very black and white about things. And I can be very stubborn when there’s something I’m set on. People tell me I can be quite ruthless, I get quite detached, you see. I should probably warn you of all this if you’re going to work with me,” she laughed nervously, praying that she hadn’t put him off entirely.

“Yeah, but those things aren’t that important, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Fitz insisted. “Everyone has character flaws, and those are all pretty mild, by the way, as flaws go. In fact, they’re practically a requirement for a scientist! Look at me, I can be a cocky bastard, and I’m sarcastic, which has gotten me into trouble more than once. I also have a bit of a temper, and I can be insecure, and I have a tendency to wallow in self-pity at times. But the important thing is, I think, how you treat people, how you make them feel, that’s what I mean. And you are kind to people, Jemma, you’re so kind, it’s like a natural instinct with you, and I just wondered how you got like that.”

She shook her head, at a loss for words. Nobody had ever said such lovely things about her before. She was sure Fitz would come to regret them once he got to know her better. “I suppose that I’ve always just wanted people to like me,” she shrugged. “So if I’m nice, then it’s for quite selfish reasons, really.”

“It’s not selfish to want people to like you,” Fitz countered. “If everyone wanted everybody to like them, I think the world would be a much better place. I mean, I don’t really care what people think of me, and so I end up pissing people off.”

“No, that’s not true,” Jemma argued. “I’ve only known you a few days, but I’ve observed that you didn’t care what Charlotte thought of you, for example, because Charlotte had obviously already upset you so you weren’t concerned with her opinion anymore. But you’ve been unfailingly kind to me, and to your other customers, and the staff in the tea shop, and the staff in here, and the people who came in and out of the lab today. And you took in a man - a complete stranger - who was heartbroken and in a crisis, and you were a friend to him when he needed it most. It’s no wonder Hunter wanted to return the favour, and mention your work when he had his job interview with Shield. He didn’t know at that stage if he was going to get the job or not, but he tried to put in a good word for you all the same.”

Fitz sat back and stared at her in surprise, as this was the first time that any of this had occurred to him. He lowered his eyes in pleased self-consciousness. Jemma watched him, smiling at his adorable bashfulness, and suddenly found herself focusing on the shape of his mouth. She bit her lip as the thought of placing her own on it entered her head. As if he could read her mind, he looked up suddenly and met her eyes. There was a sudden shift in the air, an instantaneous charging of particles between them, and Jemma felt her heart beat speed up and her face flush. All at once she knew that this relationship could never stay professional, and that if he asked, she would go home with him right then. She hoped that he would and prayed that he wouldn’t in the same instant, feeling fear and desire in equal measure. Accordingly she experienced a confusing combination of relief and bitter disappointment when Fitz broke the connection, looking down at his hands and shifting in his chair as he started chatting very rapidly about how he should be getting home. Jemma downed the dregs of her wine, as the relief quickly dissipated and all she was left with was the disappointment.

 

Fitz was kicking himself. As he let himself in through the front door of his building, he ruminated on the very strange day he’d had, a day which had started off so horribly and ended so wonderfully. He was glad he had thrown caution to the wind and gone for a drink with Jemma; he had told himself when he left the flat that morning that he was going to maintain a professional relationship with her, and not let himself get too attached to her. Although he’d never felt this way about anyone before, he knew Charlotte was determined to make him miserable and it wasn’t worth having to put up with that poisonous snake and her malevolent threats. But when he saw how Jemma reacted to his attempt to be more professional towards her he had felt awful. And when he realised how well they worked together, and how everything just clicked between them, he knew that this partnership was going to be something more far important than anything Charlotte could do to him. 

Then Jemma had asked him to go for a drink, and logic tried to tell him that this was crossing the boundaries - Charlotte wouldn’t like that because of what Fitz knew, and she could become dangerous to them. But it tore at his heart when he saw how embarrassed Jemma was and he knew that he’d be the world’s biggest idiot if he didn’t accept her invitation. Still, Charlotte’s threats were gnawing at him – there was a moment back there in the pub when it felt like something was about to happen between him and Jemma, and instead he had blown it. He had suddenly panicked because their partnership was so new and everything felt very precarious with the threat about Shield that Charlotte was holding over him, and he wanted to make sure that was secure first. But now he was furious with himself that he had let Charlotte get to him so much, and that he had allowed that opportunity with Jemma slip. He leaned his forehead against the door of the flat and sighed at his foolishness – his cowardice really - before turning the key and letting himself in.

Almost as soon as he entered the hall, he stopped as he heard the unmistakeable sounds of loud, aggressive sex coming from Hunter’s room? What the hell??!! Was this going to be the new thing now, after they’d finally gotten Raina out of their lives, Hunter was going to bring home a new girl every night?! Fitz was going to have to have a word with him about this. He wondered if the fact that it was getting closer to the time when Hunter would be going to New York and seeing Bobbi with her new husband had anything to do with his lack of judgment recently. Probably – most things in Hunter’s life had to do with Bobbi. Fitz didn’t know what had happened in that relationship, but it had really messed Hunter up. Just as he was beginning to sympathy for his friend, the cry of an all too familiar voice sent a chill down his spine, and he froze on the spot. He had just heard Charlotte Simmons screaming, “Oh god, give it to me, you fucking bastard!” She was still here. And she was having sex with Hunter. Again. He felt like he was going to be sick. He stormed down the hall to his bedroom, and slammed the door behind him.


	5. My Super Rich Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After several weeks of friendship Jemma approaches Fitz to ask him for a favour, and Fitz finds himself suddenly having to contend with the prospect of meeting Jemma's parents.

The next few weeks were simultaneously some of the best and worst of Fitz’s life. The best part was obviously Jemma. Their collaboration proving to be a resounding success – Coulson was ecstatic about their progress and had invited Jemma to come to New York with Fitz, much to their mutual elation. But what was even better was that they were spending all of their time together outside of the lab as well. They’d had a wonderful time during their Sunday lunch in Greenwich and things had just progressed from there. What started as lunch or a quick drink across the street in the Brass Monkey turned into grabbing dinner after work - in nearby restaurants initially - but eventually at Jemma’s house, although only when Fitz was assured that Charlotte would definitely not be in attendance. Ironically, Charlotte’s little dog, Poppy, had taken a shine to Fitz, and liked to curl up on his knee while they both watched Jemma cook. It amused him to think of how annoyed it would make Charlotte if she saw that. On the few nights when Charlotte was at home, Fitz and Jemma would go to the cinema instead, or they’d order takeaway and watch Doctor Who at Fitz’s flat. It was becoming their habit as well to text each other constantly when they were apart, even exchanging ‘good night’ messages last thing before bed. Jemma often came by the coffee shop when Fitz was working, to sit at the counter and drink tea and chat whilst Fitz cleaned the coffee machine. They had even started to get together in the study at the Simmons’ house in Highgate to type up their respective theses, Fitz on one side of the desk with his laptop, and Jemma on the other side with hers.

Fitz had never felt so close to anyone before, or so comfortable in another person’s company. What was oddly wonderful about it was that it wasn’t even harmonious all the time. Instead it was comfortable, and he felt able to just be himself. They would bicker a lot, they were competitive with each other, and they sometimes even got on each other’s nerves. Fitz knew it frustrated Jemma when he started making jokes while she was fretting about something, and it irritated him when she would roll her eyes and speak condescendingly to him. And yet, the next minute they’d be laughing about something, or Jemma would place a comforting hand on his shoulder because something wasn’t working, or she’d be excited that something was working, and he would just be watching her, mesmerised by her beauty. And sometimes, there were instances like the one in the pub when it felt like maybe something more was going to happen between them, and it physically hurt him each time to deliberately spoil these moments and tactfully extricate himself from the situation. He just prayed that Jemma wouldn’t lose interest before they were safely in America and had a contract with Shield, and he could tell her everything.

Apart from that particularly painful aspect of their relationship, everything with Jemma was otherwise perfect, and Fitz would have been really happy - if it weren’t for the worst part of those few weeks. For one thing, Hunter was still sleeping with Charlotte. It wasn’t like they were a couple, and she wasn’t always at the flat or anything, but every now and then, maybe once or twice a week, he’d hear them come in late at night. Once, after he had fixed a problem one of the drones was having, he was filming a test run in the flat to show Jemma the next day, as flying robots were not encouraged in Jemma’s university lab. He had heard Hunter and Charlotte outside the door, and ran into his room to hide. He realised the next day on the way to the lab that he couldn’t show Jemma the footage as in the midst of his escape he had left the camera on, and it had recorded Hunter and Charlotte bursting through the door with their hands and mouths all over each other. He had pretended that he didn’t get the footage because the camera wasn’t working and prayed she wouldn’t ask why a man who made drones with the ability to smell wasn’t able to fix a camera.

On the nights when Charlotte came to the flat, Fitz would always stay in bed until he heard her leave the next morning. He was always late to meet Jemma on those days, and she would always comment on him being grumpy in the lab. He would still see Charlotte in work – she had developed the habit of meeting a group of friends every Monday afternoon (when did this woman ever do any work?) He was sure she only had only organised this little regular get-together so that she could rub his face in it. The triumphant little smile she gave him every time he happened to catch her eye made him want to smash something, but he managed to keep himself busy enough to avoid serving her, or even looking at her.

The thing that was really upsetting him though, was that he didn’t know why Hunter was continuing to sleep with his lab partner’s sister, because he never saw Hunter. His friend was being weirdly distant towards him, even going out of his way to avoid Fitz. And the few times that they had spoken, Hunter had been nothing short of hostile. The morning after he’d come back from the pub with Jemma he’d confronted Hunter in the kitchen about hearing him and Charlotte together, but Hunter’s reaction had stunned him. He had been unusually antagonistic and had more or less told Fitz where to go. Fitz had put it down to Hunter being hungover and defensive, but he was still in a sullen mood when Fitz got home from work that night. After a few days of such behaviour, Fitz began to suspect that Charlotte was behind all this, but he couldn’t get Hunter alone to talk about it, because he was never in the flat when Fitz was there. As Fitz was spending most of his time with Jemma, he wasn’t at home very often either. He had gone into Hunter’s room a few times in the morning after hearing Charlotte leave, but Hunter never responded to his attempts to wake him. Fitz was pretty sure he was pretending to sleep, and the whole thing was starting to piss him off. After a week of this, Fitz gave up any attempt at reconciliation and decided that Hunter could go fuck himself.

He didn’t need Hunter anyway, he had Jemma, and that was all that mattered to him. Jemma was anxious to meet Hunter – he was always at work when Fitz brought her to the flat – and Fitz had to keep finding excuses as to why Hunter wasn’t available. He couldn’t tell Jemma that he and Hunter weren’t speaking without telling her why. Even without mentioning Charlotte, Fitz wasn’t entirely sure why himself, so he said nothing and hoped that the situation would resolve itself by the time they all had to go to New York together. At least they would all be getting away from Charlotte.

He had been working with Jemma for about a month, when she came into the coffee shop one day. He smiled when he saw her, reaching for her favourite teapot, but she stopped him. “I’m not staying,” she said, clasping her hands together and resting her forearms on the counter as she leaned towards him. “I actually have to pop into Charlotte’s office across the street to see her, but I just wanted to ask you something. To beg you for something, actually,” she finished, in a tone of voice that made him think he might not like what she was going to ask him.

“What is it?” he ventured suspiciously.

She took a deep breath, and flashed him her most winning smile. “My mum called me this morning. My parents are having a big party this weekend, and well, she’s insisting I be there. To me that usually means that she’s lined up some self-absorbed prat she wants to try and set me up with, and even if she hasn’t, I hate those things anyway. I have to spend the whole time making small talk with people that make me want to stab myself with a fork.”

“So don’t go. You’re finishing up a PhD, you’re busy, you can’t possibly make it.”

“I can’t, I’ve said that the last three times she’s invited me to one of these, I would incur her wrath if I don’t go this time, and that is something I’ve learned to avoid at all costs. The thing is…will you come with me? I’d really like my parents to meet you, they’re really iffy about the whole New York thing, and I think if they could meet you and see that you’re a good guy and you know what you’re doing, they’d feel a whole lot better about everything. Also, if there is a guy she wants to introduce me to, you’ll be saving me, I won’t be expected to entertain him if I have a guest to look after. And the whole thing will just be a lot more fun if you’re there.”

Fitz stared back at her, his mouth hanging open. “You want me to come to your parents’ house? To a party? With you?”

“Yes, Fitz, that’s correct. Well done, you have a grasp of the general idea.”

“No need to be sarcastic, miss!” he retorted playfully. He placed his hands on the counter, and leant forward, adopting a more serious tone. “Jemma, I can’t go to your parents’ house!”

“Why ever not?”

“Well, for one thing I have to work this weekend.”

“You said you were only working Friday and Sunday. We can leave on Saturday morning, but can’t you swap shifts with someone on Sunday? You’ve done it enough times for other people.”

Fitz sighed. “Yeah, but I’m not really invited, am I?”

“I’m inviting you right now!”

“Yeah, but it’s your parents’ party, Jemma. They don’t even know me. What are they going to think about you turning up with some stranger? Don’t you think they’ll find it a little weird, you bringing your research partner to a family party?”

“I’m bringing my friend to a family party,” Jemma emphasised. “And I’m bringing you because we’re working together on a project that could lead to us moving to New York, and so I want them to meet you before that happens.”

“Oh, and here I thought you were bringing me as a human shield to deflect your mum’s matchmaking attempts.”

“Well, that too,” Jemma sighed. “But in all honesty, Fitz, I want you to come because I’ll enjoy it more if you’re there. If I have to go, you coming with me will make the whole thing more bearable. Please?” Her huge amber eyes reminded him of a puppy’s and he knew he had no hope of resisting.

“Will your sister be there?”

Jemma gave him a reproving look. “Yes, she will, but I will warn her that she has to be nice to you from now on. And it wouldn’t kill you to even attempt to be nice to her as well, even if you don’t feel like it.”

Fitz opened his mouth in indignation. “I was nice to her! Jemma, it is literally my job to be nice to her, and yet she treated me like I was something she stepped in!”

“I know, Fitz,” she snapped angrily, “and I’m sorry that my sister was a bitch to you, you didn’t deserve that but she is my sister and you’re my only close friend, and I don’t expect you to hang out all the time or anything, but I would think the two of you could at least be civil to each other, for my sake! Even being in the same room as her would be a start! I hate this business of you refusing to come to my house when she’s there, it’s so silly!”

Fitz bowed his head in regret. Jemma had no idea what her sister was really capable of – she merely thought Charlotte rude, rather than conniving and manipulative. People could be so blind when it came to family, he had learned, and he should have known that Jemma would be upset that he refused to interact with Charlotte. After all, she had no idea that Charlotte had threatened him, or that she’d somehow managed to turn his best friend against him. He was going to have to suck it up and learn to tolerate Charlotte even though the very sight of her caused him to taste bile at the back of his throat – Jemma was worth it. 

“Besides,” Jemma continued in a more conciliatory tone, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about having to talk to Charlotte too much. She’ll be otherwise engaged, she’s bringing her new boyfriend and she’s really excited to show him off.”

“Her WHAT??!!”

The momentary notion that Charlotte might be bringing Hunter to the Simmons’ family party vanished as it dawned on Fitz that there was no way in hell that would ever happen. Then that meant…

“Her boyfriend. What?” Jemma was frowning at him.

“I just didn’t know she had a boyfriend, that’s all.”

“Why is that such a shock?”

“I just…can’t imagine anyone being able to put up with her.”

“FITZ!!!” Jemma stepped back from the counter, offended

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was joking,” he said with a placating laugh, reaching across the counter to grab her hands. “It was just a joke, Jemma, really. I didn’t mean it.”

She glared at him in mock resentment, folding her arms out of his reach, before relenting and begrudgingly sidling back to the counter. She was absolutely adorable. He gave an affectionate chuckle, which earned him a reluctant twist of a smile in return.

“So who is this new boyfriend then?” he inquired casually as he started wiping down the counter. “And why is she so excited to show him off?”

“His name’s Jonathan Townsend. His father owns…well, a whole load of companies really. So they’re filthy stinking rich, which is why Charlotte is so excited.” Jemma rolled her eyes.

“Ah.” Suddenly Charlotte’s threats were starting to make sense. “And is it serious?”

“I don’t know. She’s been seeing him for just over a month now, and I haven’t really seen much of her, because she’s out with him all the time, and I’m always with you, but bringing him to a family party after a month is a pretty big deal. I think. I wouldn’t know,” she sighed wistfully, “it’s been a long time since I had a boyfriend.”

Fitz nodded but it was more to himself as Jemma’s words confirmed his suspicions that the uber-wealthy boyfriend was the reason for Charlotte’s apparent terror about anyone finding out about her and Hunter. If she’d been with him a month, then they’d just started dating around the time she first slept with Hunter. He now understood why Charlotte had been so adamant that Jemma shouldn’t know – if he told her, Jemma would inform him that Charlotte had a boyfriend, and that would give Fitz, someone who bore Charlotte a grudge, so much ammunition against her. Fitz wasn’t remotely interested in Charlotte’s love life, but he knew she imagined he would try to sabotage her relationship out of spite.

Not for the first time, Fitz pondered why he shouldn’t just tell Jemma what Charlotte had said to him. After all if he did so, Jemma would know that Charlotte was responsible if he got fired or if the contract with Shield fell through. And apart from anything else, he hated lying to Jemma. He suspected that she’d be furious with him for keeping this from her. But then he remembered what Charlotte had said about her parents not wanting Jemma to go to New York. It would be in their interest if the deal with Shield fell through, so he suspected that they might be happy to conspire with Charlotte, and Jemma would be powerless to do anything about it. And he didn’t just want Shield for himself now, he wanted it for Jemma as well. Not just because he wished for her to come with him, but also because he knew Jemma had her heart set on it, and he wanted Jemma to have a life of her own, away from her family.

“So will you come?” Jemma was leaning alluringly on the counter again, her tone pleading. 

Fitz swallowed. She was almost impossible to say no to. But being in the same room with Charlotte and her billionaire beau could prove to be dangerous. It would put Charlotte on her guard to see Fitz there, knowing that one word from him could ruin everything for her. On the other hand… there was a part of him that was absolutely thrilled that Jemma had not only invited him, but was currently begging him to come. And that part was winning. 

“I’ll see if I can swap my Sunday shift,” he relented. “And then I’ll let you know.”

“Yay!” Jemma did an endearing little excited jump and clapped her hands, and he grinned in spite of himself. She turned and started to walk away. “Oh!” She stopped and swung round again. “Remember to bring your swimming gear. I know you said you liked swimming.”

“Are we going to the beach?” he asked, as she walked away again.

“We can if you want,” Jemma answered over her shoulder. “But it’s a bit cold this time of year. I just meant if you wanted to have a swim in the pool.”

“You have a pool.” Fitz responded, mostly to himself. “Of course you do. What was I thinking?” He turned his attention back to cleaning the counter. He sighed. What was he letting himself in for? And what did one wear to a party on the country estate of a billionaire?

 

They set off early on Saturday morning in Jemma’s Mini for the drive to Devon. It was a beautiful day, and despite his apprehension about seeing Charlotte, Fitz found himself beginning to relax and enjoy the drive with Jemma. They chatted happily and listened to music for over four hours, even whilst stuck in traffic on the motorway. As they drove through Devon they both fell quiet – Fitz was taking in the scenery for the first time, whilst Jemma wore the smile of someone passing familiar landmarks on their way home. 

The Simmons’ family estate, it turned out, was located several miles outside the town of Ashburton. As they approached, Fitz curiously peered out the window. He realised that his imagination had not adequately prepared him for the sheer scale and grandeur of the place. A leafy, tree-lined drive wound past acres of woodland, parkland and manicured lawns to a gravel courtyard in front of a huge Georgian mansion house. A number of luxury cars were parked outside the house, including a brand new bright red Porsche convertible. For the first time it struck Fitz that despite being able to afford any car she wanted, Jemma chose to drive around in a Mini, which was much more practical for London. It said so much about her - nothing she did was for show, everything had a logical reason and purpose. Fitz felt a rush of affection for her as they climbed out of the car. 

As they were retrieving their bags from the boot, he heard the front door open and looked up to see a dark-haired woman, elegantly dressed in a floaty floral blouse and black wide-leg trousers, with expensive-looking gold jewellery dangling from her neck and wrists. She stood at the top of the steps with her arms folded, her demeanour unhappy, or perhaps simply anxious and weary.

“Hi Mum!” Jemma called brightly, rushing towards her. 

“Darling!” Her mother held her arms towards her without smiling, and they loosely hugged, before Mrs Simmons stepped backwards to cast an appraising eye over her daughter.

“You’re very pale. And you look tired,” she observed critically. “You’ve been spending too much time in that lab. It’s not good for you. And it’s been much too long since we’ve seen you.”

“I’ve been busy, Mum. A PhD is a lot of work, you know.” Jemma turned round and gestured to Fitz to come forward. “Speaking of which, Mum, this is my research partner, Leo Fitz. Fitz, this is my mother, Fiona Simmons.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Simmons,” Fitz smiled at her, extending his hand. She shook it and gave him a tight smile. 

“Lovely to meet you too, Leo. We’ve heard so much about you,” she replied, in a tone that made him think that she might have meant from Charlotte rather than Jemma. His stomach felt like someone had tied a brick to it and dropped it.

“Please, Mum, he prefers Fitz,” Jemma blurted. 

“No, it’s fine, you can call me Leo,” he interjected. He knew from experience that it made people’s mothers uncomfortable calling him by his surname. Besides which, his friends called him Fitz. People he was on a more formal footing with usually called him Leo, which seemed more appropriate in this situation.

“Fine, Leo it is,” she smiled politely at him again.

“Whose is the Porsche?” Jemma inquired as she walked into the house in front of her mother.

“Oh, that’s Jonathan’s. He and Charlotte arrived last night. You should have come then, we had a lovely dinner. He and your father are off playing golf at the moment,” Fiona informed her. 

“Where’s Charlotte?”

“She’s in the pool. Did you want to see her?”

“Not really. I’m gasping for a cuppa actually.” Jemma dropped her bag in the hall and reached for Fitz’s, putting it down beside hers.

“Oh, of course,” Fiona replied, with a significant glance at the bags. “Do you want to take Leo up and get settled in your rooms first, and I’ll have Alice bring the tea into the drawing room?” 

“No, it’s fine, we’ll just go in the kitchen and make it ourselves,” Jemma answered, making her way down the hall, with a nod at Fitz to follow. “We’ll take our bags up later.”

Fiona exhaled quickly through her nose in a gestured of suppressed irritation, and Fitz hovered awkwardly near the bags, waiting to see if she would voice objection to this plan before he decided to follow Jemma. He was determined not to offend the woman before he’d even got in the door. But Jemma had almost disappeared down the hall, and Fiona sighed in defeat, and signalled to Fitz that he should follow. Mrs Simmons seemed like a woman who liked to do things a certain way, with a certain amount of protocol. While her daughter certainly displayed those characteristics in the lab, social etiquette was not something Jemma set great store by. He knew that in social settings she preferred to be comfortable rather than proper. 

Fitz followed Jemma into a huge, airy kitchen with high ceilings, where a plump older woman with a friendly face and a strong Devon accent greeted Jemma with a bear hug, and fussed over her in a way that reminded him of his mother. Jemma introduced Fitz to Alice, the housekeeper, who’d apparently been with the family for most of Jemma’s life. Certainly, Alice had an easy familiarity with Jemma - both he and Jemma blushed when Alice commented that he had a nice face, whilst giving Jemma a wink. Alice insisted making tea for the two of them, even though Jemma argued that they would get it themselves since Alice probably had enough to do to get ready for the party. Alice brooked no opposition and bade Jemma sit down. She set a teapot, cups and two fresh baked scones with clotted cream and jam in front of them, all the while filling Jemma in about the local gossip. Fitz wondered if the reason Jemma had brought him into the kitchen to have tea instead of taking it in the drawing room with her mother was because she knew that Alice’s reassuring chatter would make him feel more at home.

It turned out that Alice was indeed extremely busy getting ready for the party, and had brought in her grand-daughter, a surly nineteen-year-old called Megan, to help for the day. It appeared however that Megan’s work was not meeting Alice’s exacting standards. As soon as Megan entered the kitchen carrying a mop and bucket, a row broke out about something she was supposed to have done ages ago. Fitz and Jemma wolfed down their scones and retreated to take their bags upstairs. Fitz had been assigned to a small but very pleasant room towards the end of the first floor corridor, overlooking the park at the front of the house. Jemma informed him that there was a bathroom next door, and as everyone else had en-suite bathrooms, he’d be the only one using it. This made him feel much more relaxed – there was less chance of any awkward meetings in the hall. He dropped his bags beside the bed and walked with Jemma down the corridor to her old bedroom, a large, bright room at the back of the house, with a view over a pretty walled garden. The back wall of the room was lined with bookshelves housing a plethora of scientific works, many of which Fitz recognised and owned himself, although a large number of them were biochemistry and biology textbooks. There was an anatomy model in one corner and a desk with a small microscope on it. All of this made a strange contrast with the floral bedspread and the teddy bear propped up against the pillow, as well as the various feminine knick-knacks on top of the dresser. Fitz laughed out loud as he looked around.

“What?” Jemma asked him in mock indignation.

“This room,” he replied. “It’s so completely you. I bet you were a really weird kid, weren’t you?”

“No more than you, I imagine,” she retorted. He laughed again.

“Yeah, you’ve got that right. Only difference was my room was full of bits of electronic and mechanical components. It used to drive my mum crazy.”

“Fitz, your bedroom now is full of bits of electronic and mechanical components.”

“Yeah, and I only brought you in there to see the device I’d been working on after I tidied all the laundry off the floor and made the bed.”

“Aww! I’m touched that you cleaned your bedroom for me.”

“Yeah, well, I knew that if I didn’t, you’d just focus on the mess and not what I was trying to show you.”

Jemma shoved him playfully. “C’mon,” she said. “I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

A tour of the Simmons estate, as it happened, was a day out in itself. Fitz was completely overwhelmed. He couldn’t imagine anyone actually living here, let alone Jemma, who was so down to earth, and…well, no, not normal. Jemma was anything but normal. But she certainly didn’t give the impression of being someone who was used to living in luxury. This place felt more like a five-star hotel than a home. He was positively disoriented after wandering around the extensive gardens, which seemed to go on forever. It occurred to him that it might be relatively easy to avoid Charlotte here, and he felt slightly better about the weekend. As they crossed to the pool house he experienced a momentary twinge of fear, but thankfully the hell-beast was no longer there. He got to admire the building in peace. It was a modern construction, all glass and wooden beams, and the large pool had an attractive mosaic tile floor. There were even changing rooms and showers, and it was all very enticing. Fitz wondered if he’d be able to have a swim early the next morning before any of the family got up. The idea of being able to get up and have a swim in your own pool every morning was marvellous to him, but as Jemma talked about how much she missed swimming he realised that the privilege was not lost on her. Then he thought about Jemma in a bathing suit, and had to hurry out of the place before things got awkward.

The next stop was the stables, and Fitz was absolutely entranced by the horses. Having spent his entire life in cities, he had only seen a horse up close a few times in his life. Jemma’s horse, Peggy, was a beautiful brown mare with eyes that reminded him almost of Jemma’s. Jemma pointed out Charlotte’s horse, Diva, a white mare, who tossed her head a lot and flared her nostrils alarmingly. It tickled Fitz that the two horses appeared to have personalities which matched those of their respective owners. Peggy was calm, sweet natured and friendly, Diva was apparently so called because she was temperamental and difficult. He decided it was best to keep this parallel to himself. 

Eventually the tour came to a close, and they realised that they were both getting tired. Jemma suggested that they return to their rooms for a nap before the party. Fitz approved this idea, and they parted ways at the top of the stairs. As he walked into his room, Fitz glanced out the window and saw a black Range Rover drive into the courtyard. He crossed the room and looked down on two men getting out of a black Range Rover. He imagined these must be Jemma’s father and Charlotte’s boyfriend returning from golf. George Simmons was a short, rather round man, with a bald head and a moustache, and yet there was something very reminiscent of Jemma in his face. He was talking loudly and Fitz could hear a strong Sheffield accent. The accent surprised him somehow, even though Jemma had mentioned her father was originally from Sheffield. Jonathan, on the other hand, was exactly what Fitz would have expected. He had a posh accent and was tall and tan and good-looking with floppy hair and white teeth. He sighed to himself, as he wondered about the possibility of him ever being invited to play golf with Jemma’s father. He wasn’t sure if he felt more terrified at the prospect of such a thing, or unspeakably sad at the idea that it might never happen. He lay face down on the bed, thinking how nice it would be if he could just sleep through the party.


	6. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party begins. Jemma has a plan for the evening, but emotions (and wine) threaten to overwhelm her. Fitz finds an unexpected ally and Charlotte is not pleased.

After a brief nap and a shower, Fitz got into the suit he normally wore to interviews. He sighed at himself in the mirror as he adjusted his tie. He regretted telling Jemma he’d come. He contemplated pretending to be sick so that he wouldn’t have to go downstairs. He wanted to do anything other than go to the party. He didn’t know any of these people, he was pretty sure they would hate him and that he would hate them. Most of all, he really didn’t want to see Charlotte. He had managed to avoid running into her all day, and he wondered how easy it would be to spend the entire party hiding from her. Maybe he just could climb out the window now and make a run for it. As he was calculating the distance between the window and the ground, a knock came at the door.

He opened it cautiously, not sure who to expect on the other side. He wasn’t entirely convinced that he didn’t give an audible gasp when he saw Jemma standing there. Certainly she blushed at his reaction and looked away shyly, so he was definitely staring even if he didn’t actually make a noise. She was wearing a bright red sleeveless dress with a plunging neckline which was fitted from her bust to her waist, before swirling out from her hips to just above her knees. She was also wearing strappy heels which brought her up almost to his height, although he was pleased to see that her forehead was level with his mouth, so he was still definitely taller. Her hair was curled even more than usual, and she was wearing dark eye make-up which rendered her eyes so startlingly amber he felt like he could drown in them and be preserved for eternity. She wore red lipstick, which made her already full lips appear even more luscious and impossible to look at without thinking about kissing. A delicate gold pendant nestled in the space between the tops of her creamy, freckled breasts, and long gold earrings jangled when she moved her head, matching the gold flecks dancing in her irises. She looked so different and yet every familiar feature was emphasised and highlighted to stunning effect. All in all she was a vision, and he was sure he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. 

“You look…nice,” he faltered, as he struggled to regain his composure. “Really, uhm…nice.” He felt like an idiot, although he wasn’t sure if it was because his words were so inadequate or if it was because he had been gawking at her for a full minute.

“Thank you,” she replied, flushing prettily. “You don’t clean up so bad yourself,” she returned, casting what almost looked like an appreciative eye over his suit. Girls like suits though, he thought to himself. She’s probably relieved I don’t look as scruffy as I usually do.

Jemma shook her head before returning her gaze to his eyes. She seemed strangely nervous. “The guests haven’t started arriving yet, but my mum wants us to come down to the drawing room for drinks before they do,” she continued. Fitz nodded, feeling a lot of things at the one time. He didn’t feel very confident about his ability to function around Jemma at the moment, and he could probably do with the distraction of having other people in the room, especially if those people were her family. And he could definitely do with a drink before the other guests arrived. On the other hand, he was going to be in a room with Jemma’s parents and Charlotte. Her brother Thomas worked in Berlin apparently, and thus wouldn’t be attending the party. Fitz was relieved at that, the last thing he needed was an older brother to contend with as well. 

“C’mon, then.” Jemma was looking at him curiously, and Fitz realised that he was still standing in the doorway staring at her. 

“Oh! Right.” He closed the door behind him, and followed her downstairs to the party.

 

Jemma bit back an excited smile as she led the way down the stairs. She wasn’t sure what she was more thrilled about - how incredibly hot Fitz looked in his slim-fitting grey suit and charcoal striped tie, or how he had reacted to her in this dress. She was so pleased by his involuntary compliment that she didn’t even mind his pathetic excuse for a verbal one. The look he gave her was exactly what she had in mind when she'd bought the dress. 

She’d had enough of dancing around this thing between them, spending every waking moment together, having what basically amounted to dates several times a week, and yet nothing physical ever happening between them. It was frustrating the hell out of her. She knew he was interested, she saw the way he looked at her, the way she kept catching his eye before he'd look away in embarrassment. Moments like the one in the Brass Monkey, where they looked at each other a little too long and the atmosphere crackled around them seemed to keep happening, but Fitz would always break the mood, backing away uncomfortably or launching into a diversionary conversation. She had reached the point where she was going to scream the next time he did that. Jemma was not going to let him be a gentleman anymore. She had decided that tonight was the night – at the first opportunity for them to slip away unnoticed, she was going to ask Fitz to join her for a walk in the garden. With him in that suit, and her in this dress and a stroll in the moonlight, it couldn’t possibly fail to work.

The first hurdle though was to introduce Fitz to her parents. She was nervous about it, not because she was worried about what Fitz would do, but because she didn’t trust her parents not to judge Fitz on his background, which wasn’t necessarily one they would have deemed suitable for their daughter. She believed that they couldn’t help but like him once they took the time to get to know him, but she wasn’t confident that they would give him that chance. She took a deep breath as she entered the drawing room. 

Her family were already gathered, drinks in hand. Her mother and Charlotte were seated in a suspiciously conspiratorial pose on one of the sofas. Jonathan was leaning against the mantelpiece chatting to Jemma’s father, who had taken up his customary position of standing with his back to the fireplace and his legs slightly apart. Jemma crossed the room and greeted her father with a kiss on the cheek, and shook Jonathan’s hand.

“That’s a pretty dress, Jemma,” her mother remarked, casting her eye up and down Jemma’s ensemble. “You look very well tonight,” she added, as she brought her eyes up to Jemma’s face. Compliments from her mother were rare, so Jemma beamed and thanked her, smoothing down the front of her dress. She caught her mother then exchanging a look with Charlotte, before both of them glanced over to where Fitz was hovering by the door. Jemma’s face reddened. She knew they had guessed that the dress was for Fitz’s benefit. She also had an inkling that Charlotte had done something of a character assassination on Fitz before Jemma’s arrival, and that her mother was happy to buy it. She clenched her fists in irritation, as she turned away from them. If they were going to be a united front in this game of snide disapproval, then she had a counter move ready. She grabbed Fitz’s hand and pulled him towards her father.

“Dad, this is my friend, Leo Fitz, who I’m working with on the project I told you about. Fitz, this is my father, George Simmons.” 

The two men shook hands and nodded at each other, and Fitz said, “Very nice to meet you, sir,” in a slightly shaky voice that made Jemma think she should get him a drink. She offered him one, and he gratefully accepted, adding that he would take whatever they had. She walked over to the drinks cabinet and began fixing a gin and tonic for herself and a whiskey for Fitz, keeping an ear to the conversation that was developing. 

“So Jemma tells us you’re from Glasgow, Fitz,” she heard her father ask. “I knew a Malcolm Fitz from Glasgow once, are you any relation?”

“Very possibly, sir,” Fitz replied. “I have a lot of relatives I’ve never met.”

“Hmmm,” acknowledged her father. “And what do your people do, Fitz?”

Fitz gave a nervous ‘um’ and Jemma decided to come to his rescue. She called over her shoulder as she poured tonic into her glass. “Fitz’s mum owns a wonderful Victorian-style tea room in Glasgow, Dad. Remember I told you about it? I was there last year.” She crossed back to where they stood and handed Fitz his drink. Her father was nodding his recollection and Jonathan was examining his hands in disinterest, seemingly waiting for the conversation to be over so he could monopolise her father’s attention again. Jemma took up the position of buffer between him and Fitz. She sipped at her drink before continuing, “It really is remarkable. She built that business up from scratch by herself, didn’t she, Fitz?”

Fitz gave her a rather alarmed look but she nodded her encouragement at him, begging him with her eyes to trust her. Fitz turned back to her father. “Um, that’s right, she did. She started off with a stall at a local market, and then a van that drove around offices selling sandwiches and so on. She made enough money doing that to open a café in the city centre, which she had for years, and then about 5 years ago she opened the tea room.”

Jemma’s father gave an approving nod. “Well, that’s impressive now. That really is.” Jonathan looked thoroughly unimpressed and Jemma turned her back on him slightly to exclude him from the conversation.

“The tea room’s very popular, Dad, it’s a very up-market kind of place, and there are literally queues to get into it at the weekend. What’s amazing is that she literally started with nothing,” she went on. She glanced at Fitz in a silent request for him to continue the story. She knew his pride in his mother would win out over his fear of saying the wrong thing. He nodded his assent and continued.

“Yeah, she started off working in the canteen in my dad’s factory. She used to bring the tea up to his office, that’s how they met,” he said nervously. Jonathan gave a derisive snort at this, and Jemma shot him an icy glare. He appeared to be taken aback and she guessed he wasn’t accustomed to being rebuked.

Ignoring Jonathan, her father raised his eyebrows at Fitz. “Your father owns a factory?”

“No, not anymore. I mean, he died. When I was three. But the factory had closed down before that.” Fitz faltered, and Jemma jumped in to save him. 

“Fitz’s family actually have a very similar story to ours, Dad,” she said. “His great-grandfather opened a factory in Glasgow, same as your grandfather had one in Sheffield.”

“Is that so?” Her father was definitely interested now. Jonathan slunk away in defeat to join Charlotte on the couch.

“Yes, sir. Leopold Schmitt was his name, he manufactured engine parts for ships,” Fitz explained.

“Ah,” her father replied, nodding. “German, was he? No doubt that’s where you get your engineering talent from. What was the company?”

“Schmitt and Sons,” Fitz replied. “My grandmother was his daughter, she married the factory manager, Patrick Fitz. Their son was my dad, he inherited the factory from his uncle, but the shipbuilding industry in Glasgow pretty much collapsed in the ‘80s and the factory went out of business.”

Jemma’s father tutted sympathetically. “Yes, yes, oh, the ‘80s was a very bad time for Glasgow, that’s right. And in Sheffield as well, any place really with a tradition of heavy industry,” he agreed. “We were very lucky, the medical equipment business survived. And we had relocated to London by then, which obviously has more hospitals than anywhere else in Britain. But it just goes to show you, doesn’t it? It’s all the luck of the draw.” He shook his head in wonderment at the vagaries of fortune.

“Yes, indeed, sir,” Fitz replied. 

“Please, Fitz,” her father responded. “Call me George.” Jemma gave a silent, internal whoop as she smiled widely at both of them. Across the room, she could see her mother’s face pinched in displeasure and Charlotte was glaring at Fitz with a very sour expression on her face. Jonathan looked bored. Jemma knocked back her gin and tonic, and went to get herself another one.

The doorbell signalled the arrival of the first guests, and Jemma began doing the obligatory rounds of making small talk with her parents’ friends. Charlotte was busy parading Jonathan round, clinging to his arm as she ostentatiously introduced him to everyone. Jemma noticed Fitz skulk off into a corner to hide, and it made her strangely sad. She found herself wishing she could introduce Fitz as her boyfriend and wander round with her arm in his, stealing kisses and giggling, as Charlotte was doing with Jonathan. She overheard her mother talking about what a lovely couple Charlotte and Jonathan made, before lamenting the fact that Jemma still hadn’t settled down at the age of 27. “I just want her to meet a nice young man,” Fiona moaned at her guest.

“I’ve met one,” Jemma muttered between gritted teeth, as she stalked away in the opposite direction. She grabbed a glass of wine off a tray that Megan was carrying around. She wasn’t sure if this gathering was more tedious than usual, with a higher number of insufferable guests, or if she had actually forgotten how bad these things were. Or maybe she was simply impatient to get back to Fitz. She spied a sleazy acquaintance of her father who always tried to hit on her and ducked out of his path, only to run into her mother who promptly dragged her over to meet the son of a lord. His name was Guy and his favourite thing appeared to be talking about himself. After a while she became physically unable feign interest anymore. She downed her glass of wine and scanned the room for Megan. When Megan finally came her way, Jemma grabbed another glass off the tray, replacing it with her empty one. She glanced around and saw Fitz across the room attempting to make conversation with an elderly man who looked as if he was hard of hearing. She excused herself from Guy, but she was intercepted by her mother who exhorted her to go back and resume their conversation. Jemma’s retort that she’d rather peel her own skin off earned a furious response from her mother, and Jemma began to feel like there wasn’t enough wine in the world to get her through this night.

 

Fitz finally gave up trying to explain to the old man beside him that he wasn’t working at the party, and went to get him a drink. The man had apparently gotten the idea that he was a waiter because he thought Fitz’s accent was Irish – though why being Irish should automatically mean one must be catering staff, Fitz had no idea. The quest to find a bottle of cognac would also distract him from the sick feeling he’d had in the pit of his stomach since he had seen Jemma talking to the tall blonde guy in a designer suit. And from the fact that almost every male pair of eyes in the room seemed to follow her wherever she went. He’d even seen Jonathan glancing at her appreciatively several times, although Jonathan appeared to have a bit of a wandering eye – Fitz had even seen him give young Megan a suggestive wink as he lifted a glass off her tray. Charlotte didn’t notice as she was too busy regaling her guests with all the exclusive places she and Jonathan had been in the past month and the famous people they’d had drinks with. Charlotte’s braying laugh was setting his nerves on edge as well and it didn’t help that it reminded him disturbingly of the overly loud sex noises she made when she was with Hunter.

He inquired of the surly Megan where he might get the elderly man a cognac, only to receive a shrug in return. In desperation he looked around for Alice and saw her on the other side of the room ferrying a platter of hors d’oeuvres. He started to make his way towards her, when he was stopped by George. Jemma’s father was in jovial form and wanted to introduce Fitz to some associates of his. Fitz started to explain about the drink for the old man, and was assured that he’d forget he ordered it as soon as Fitz left. George prompted Fitz to tell his friends about his drones, and Fitz complied. His audience was gratifyingly fascinated and seemed to find it highly amusing when he recounted the tale of how he and Jemma had decided to name them after the seven dwarfs in Snow White. He had already been toying with using the acronym ‘D.W.A.R.F.’ for ‘Drones Wirelessly Automated to Retrieve Forensics’ which was part of the title of his thesis. Then the scent-detecting drone experienced a glitch of some sort when they ran its first trial, and Fitz had made a joke about how it was allergic to the perfume Jemma was spraying at it, whereupon they had begun calling it ‘Sneezy’. The story was greeted with guffaws of laughter, and George slapping him on the back, much to Fitz’s delight, although he suspected it had more to do with the 25-year-old single malt the men were imbibing than his comic genius. As the group dispersed, George took Fitz to one side to inquire about Shield, and Fitz informed him of everything he knew.

“These D.W.A.R.F.s of yours,” George mused then, “and this gun with Jem’s formula. She seems to think these could be a very big deal, could revolutionise police work.”

“Yes, sir…ah, George,” Fitz replied. “If we get them right that is. We have a lot of work to do yet.”

“So you think that there could be money to be made on these?” George queried, cradling his whiskey glass to his chest, and sticking one hand in his pocket as he leaned back to survey Fitz.

“Well, I…I don’t know,” Fitz stammered. “I mean, yeah, I suppose, if they’re successful and police departments are willing to invest in them. But I know Shield are hoping to land a government contract for them initially, so yeah.”

“Then why don’t you two go into business together?” urged George. “Set up your own company to manufacture and market these D.W.A.R.F.s? Work for yourselves rather than for someone else. Simmons & Fitz Enterprises…no, Fitz & Simmons…hey! Fitzsimmons! That’s perfect! Fitzsimmons Industries. Something like that. Ha!” George chuckled at his own joke, and Fitz couldn’t help but smile at the name. He scratched awkwardly at his jaw as he tried to formulate his answer.

“It sounds great, sir…ah, George, but to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to go about it. I’m afraid I inherited my great-grandfather’s engineering skills but not his business acumen. I’m better off in the lab than in a board room,” he explained apologetically.

“Hmmm,” George harrumphed. “You’re just like her, do you know that? Jemma, I mean. You both know you can hire someone to take care of the business side of things?”

“Yeeeeeaaah, but…” Fitz squirmed under George’s questioning look. “The thing is that Shield is the world leader in developing innovative tech for law enforcement. They know law enforcement and what the job requires, they’re experienced, they know what they’re doing, they’re honestly the best people to handle this. I wouldn’t be interested in working with them if I thought otherwise. And their R&D department is a well-paid job with lots of opportunity for creative innovation. It’s an engineer’s dream, really. I can’t speak for biochemists, but I know that they’re very interested in working with someone of Jemma’s expertise.”

George studied him for an uncomfortable moment, before eventually acceding to this with a nod. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged. “I see where you’re coming from. You’re scientists, not entrepreneurs. That’s fair enough.” He took a sip of his whiskey, and then tilting his head speculatively to one side, he said, “You know, Fitz, our Jems can be a bit of an odd bird. Far too clever for her own good that one, always had her head stuck in a book. She never made friends easily, she’s never brought anyone home before. But she seems very fond of you, and she’s convinced you’re some kind of genius. I’ve never seen her so excited as she is about the work the two of you are doing. As a father, naturally I worry about her future, but I’m glad to see her happy. And you seem like a good lad, and from a manufacturing background like my own. And your mother sounds like a hard-working, enterprising woman. Not easy bringing a child up on your own and trying to run a business at the same time. I should know, my father died young as well, and my mother had to step in and run the company until I was old enough to take over. She was a remarkable woman, my mother.” He shook his head as he gazed off into space. 

Fitz coughed slightly, and George remembered himself and continued. “Anyway, the point is, we’re currently in the process of expanding our tech division at Biosim. It’s the way healthcare is going now, medical staff want everything automated to save time and money. We’re always looking for smart, creative people for our R & D department. If this Shield thing doesn’t work out for you, Fitz, you come see me about a job at Biosim. We’d be happy to have you on board.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

Fitz’s mouth fell open and he stared back at the man in front of him. “I…thank you, sir! That’s…thank you. That’s very kind of you. Really…I don’t know what to say,” he stuttered in astonishment.

“No, I mean it, lad,” George said, patting him on the shoulder as he walked off. “You think about it.” 

Grinning to himself, Fitz squeezed through the crowd hoping to spot Jemma so he could tell her what had just transpired. Instead he found Charlotte. Evidently she had not been pleased to spy her enemy bonding with her father. She had finally unhooked herself from Jonathan and made her way over to stand in Fitz’s path as he moved through the room. She was glaring at him in white hot hatred, and Fitz stopped short, all the excitement of his previous conversation draining out of him like a balloon deflating.

“I don’t know what you thought you were doing coming here, Fitz,” she hissed. “I honestly thought you were smarter than this. This was a very bad move, you’ve tried to insert yourself into my family and that could make things very awkward for you.”

“I have not tried to ‘insert’ myself anywhere, believe me,” Fitz replied wearily. “Quite the opposite, in fact. There’s no way in hell I would ever have come here if it wasn’t for the fact that Jemma wanted me to. I’m here for Jemma, nothing else.”

“I tried to tell you before, Fitz. Jemma has ivory tower syndrome. She’s spent her entire adult life in university, she doesn’t understand how this world works. Our world,” she emphasised, and Fitz knew she was talking about everyone else in the room apart from him. “She honestly thinks it’s fine to bring some tea boy from Glasgow to a gathering like this, and she has no idea how foolish that makes her look. My mother is seething,” she continued viciously. Fitz flinched like she had slapped him. Charlotte smirked and continued. “If Jemma has no clue what a faux pas she’s committed, then I thought that you should at least be aware of it. Nobody wants you here, Fitz. You say you’re here for Jemma, but all you’re doing is embarrassing her. She just blew off the son of a hereditary peer because she was too busy looking for you. That will not go down well, it makes her look bad. If you care about her at all, you’ll stay the hell away from her. End this ridiculous bloody project of yours, and fuck off to America out of our lives.” 

For a moment, Fitz was tempted to remind her of what he knew about her more clandestine activities and ask if she was sure she wanted to speak to him like that. But the sheer hopelessness of his situation was sinking in – he knew that if he did that, Charlotte would feel threatened enough to take some sort of vindictive action, and that could only end badly for him. His only recourse at the moment was to make Charlotte feel like she was winning, that she was still in control here. Still he couldn’t resist one last swipe.

“So you’re saying that I shouldn’t even take this job that your dad’s just offered me then?” he asked innocently. For a fraction of a second he saw alarm flash in her eyes, before she immediately recovered and swung a crushing blow in return.

“He’s only offered you a job to get you away from Jemma, you moron,” she snarled. “It means that you’ll abandon this project with her, and if you’re a Biosim employee you can’t date the boss’s daughter, you’ll get fired!” She laughed harshly at him. “Face it, Fitz, you haven’t a hope here. The best thing for you to do is to walk away and forget you ever met Jemma,” she finished as she swirled around and flounced away.

Fitz felt like he’d just been mugged. He had nothing left but a desperate need to get out of this house and away from these people. The noise all around was closing in on him. It was also suddenly incredibly hot and stuffy, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. He pulled at his collar and tie as he made his way out into the hall and through the front door. He found immediate relief as the cool night air embraced him. He breathed deeply as he looked upwards, seeking reassurance from the stars. The noise of the party behind him was still too loud and he walked across the courtyard to the lawn at the front of the house to escape.

“There you are!”

Jemma’s voice rang out through the dark, and he turned to see her lit up by the security lights, attempting to skip down the steps towards him but wobbling unsteadily in her unfamiliar heels. He smiled in spite of himself. She looked so beautiful in that dress. As she came closer to him, he observed that her face was flushed and her eyes were slightly unfocused. She stumbled on the gravel as she approached him, and grabbed on to the lapels of his jacket, giggling as she righted herself.

“Fitz! I was looking for you! We have to go for a walk in the garden.” She kept hold of his lapels and pulled him towards her, biting her scarlet lip as she looked up at him, her golden eyes full of tipsy invitation. Suddenly every sense was amplified and his heart was pounding a soft rhythm in his chest. He breathed in her floral scent mixed with the alcohol on her feathery breath, and his head felt light. The warmth of her body pressed up against him sparked a familiar treacherous heat low in his belly. God, he loved her. And this was breaking his heart.

“We should go back inside, Jemma,” he said softly, grasping her upper arms and gently rubbing them as he reluctantly took a half-step back. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink, and you’re going to get cold out here. Let’s go get something to eat.” She shook her head at him and flirtatiously started to play with the buttons on his jacket, biting her lip again. Fitz swallowed, and put his hands over hers to stop them. “Or maybe we should get you to bed,” he suggested, “what do you think?”

“Only if you come with me,” she responded lasciviously, and before he knew what was happening, she had closed the distance between them and covered his mouth with her own. She was warm and soft and illicitly moist, and for a brief moment his lips parted almost involuntarily to catch hers as they moved against him. A combustion of lust seared through him, spreading like wildfire through his groin. Every fibre of his being urged him to pull her tighter against him and explore her mouth with his own, to show her how he felt with his body. But she was drunk, and Charlotte’s shrill vitriol and malevolent sneer were still fresh in his mind. So he did the most difficult thing he had ever done in his entire life. Gently cupping Jemma’s face, he pulled his lips away from hers, releasing a shaky breath and tenderly pushing a strand of hair off her cheek, before dropping his hands down to her arms again. She stared back at him with eyes full of hurt and confusion.

“You’re drunk, Jemma,” he said gently. “I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

She pushed his hands away and immediately stepped back from him, her face contorted in an agony of embarrassment. “Yeah…oh god…I’m sorry," she gasped, staring at the ground. He felt an ache in his chest and reached for her but she pulled away. “I’m so sorry,” she called. She turned and rushed back towards the house.

“Jemma!” he called out in desperation. “C’mon, Jemma, it’s okay. It’s alright. Don’t be sorry. Please!” She didn’t look back at him, just kept hurrying until she disappeared through the front door. Feeling utterly defeated, Fitz let out a tortured groan. He threw back his head and looked up at the stars, wishing somehow he could be up there instead of in his life down here. Through the night he heard a giggle and the low rumble of a male voice. He could just make out two figures huddled together by the side of the house, and felt an almost violent resentment of whatever couple were snogging there. As he walked in dread back towards the house, he glanced over to see the couple now backlit by the security light from the garage. Jonathan Townsend was leaning over and whispering into Megan’s ear, and she was looking much more animated than she had done all night. Fitz wanted to hit something. These people definitely lived in a different world. It was all because of Charlotte and her bloody precious Jonathan that Fitz couldn’t have the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world, yet these two just took anything they liked.


	7. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma tries to deal with her embarrassment after the night before and Fitz fights to save their friendship. Fitz sets a plan in motion to defeat Charlotte.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going away for a few days so I'm posting this chapter a little early. It may be some time next week before I'm able to post the next one, I'm afraid.

Jemma pressed her legs into Peggy’s side and leaned forward as the mare picked up speed. For a time she was free, flying through the Devon countryside, the exhilaration of being one with her horse making her forget the horrible, horrible thing that had happened the night before. It was as she was walking Peggy back towards the stable after her ride that the memory of Fitz rejecting her kiss punched her gut with a force that almost made her nauseous. What had she done? How was she ever going to face him again? 

She took her time removing Peggy’s tack and cleaning her, even though Andy the stable-hand offered to do it for her. She weighed her options. Avoiding Fitz forever did not appear to be one of them, not unless she either gave all of her research over to him and let him take it to Shield, or else pull out of their project and leave him high and dry. Also, she was supposed to drive him back to London today. She considered pretending not to remember anything, but she was concerned that she would not be able to look him in the eye, and therefore her excuse would not seem plausible. It appeared her only option was the most brutal one - she would apologise and beg him to never speak of it again. She could claim that she was so drunk that she had no idea what she was doing at all, although in truth, she had only been slightly more than tipsy. She cringed as she remembered Fitz knocking on her bedroom door for ages, begging her to open the door and speak to him, while she lay crying on her bed. Eventually he’d given up and gone to bed, and all cried out, Jemma had fallen asleep on top of the bed in her party dress – that damn dress that she would never wear again. Still, Fitz was so kind – so many guys would have run away and hid after rebuffing an awkward advance like that, but he had come after her to make sure she was okay.

She still wasn’t ready to go back into the house, but she had always loved relaxing in the pool after an invigorating ride. She had put her swimsuit on under her riding gear, so she let herself in the back door of the pool house, which led directly into the changing rooms. She pulled off her riding boots, and got out of her shirt, jacket and jodhpurs. Trying to shake off the excruciating memory she had on a loop in her head, she opened the door and marched out to dive straight into the pool. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that it wasn’t until she was actually in the process of diving that she suddenly realised that there was someone already in the pool. She emerged from under the water to find herself face to face with Fitz.

“Jemma! How…how are you?” he spluttered, his face looking like she’d caught him just as much by surprise as he had her. Her stomach lurched and she hugged her arms together in front of her chest, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. She looked down at the water in front of her.  
“Fine,” she replied. “Well, not fine – a bit hungover, actually.” Seeing him face to face had completely dissolved her courage and she felt like she needed to get away from him. She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to drive today, Fitz, but I know you need to get back before your work tomorrow, so Jonathan can give you a lift back, he and Charlotte are going home today.”

“It’s okay,” Fitz answered weakly. “I can take the train.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she snapped, turning away from him, and making toward the steps. She was silently ashamed of herself for taking her humiliation out on him. “The train takes all day. Just take a lift with them, it won’t kill you.”

“No, they’re driving in a Porsche convertible. It doesn’t have a back seat,” he explained patiently.

“Oh.” Jemma stopped walking, and turned back slightly. “Right.”

“I don’t mind, Jemma, I’ll take the train. I brought my laptop, I can spend the day working.”

Jemma felt so guilty. Much as she wanted to be anywhere he wasn’t right now, she couldn’t bear the thought of him stuck on a train for 10 hours just because she had been a drunken prat. It wasn’t fair that he should be punished for her indiscretion. “I tell you what, you can take my car. I’ll borrow one of my dad’s tomorrow when I’m coming back up…although how will I get it back to him?” she pondered, suddenly realising the flaw in her plan.

“Or you could come back with me, if I’m driving.” Fitz swam over and stopped in front of her, treading water. “You can lie down in the back and sleep if you’re feeling really bad.”

Jemma faltered. She had no feasible objection to this plan. And she could tell by the way he was looking at her that he wanted so badly for things to be right between them again. Sleeping in the back of the car did sound good. At least she wouldn’t have to talk to him then. She nodded. “Yes, yes, that’s a good idea. We’ll do that. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

She recommenced walking towards the steps of the pool but Fitz reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. “Jemma,” he said in the way that only he could make her name sound. She stopped, looking down at her feet. “Please stay. Have your swim. I’m finished now, I’ll get out. I only came out here because I was awake early and wanted something to do.” He took a deep breath. “About last night,” he continued, and she felt like she wanted to just sink under the water and let herself drown. “I just want you to know that you don’t need to worry. I know you were very drunk and that you had no idea what you were doing, and I didn’t want to embarrass you but I had to stop you from doing something I knew you’d regret in the morning.”

She whipped her head around at this and stared at him. Why would he think she’d regret it? Had he honestly no idea? Is that why he’d stopped her? “I mean, we have to work together,” Fitz went on, “and your friendship means so much to me, and I knew you’d never respect me or trust me again if I’d taken advantage of you. And you don’t have to worry about me getting the wrong idea about what happened. I mean, in my head, I’ll flatter myself that it was my unfettered sex appeal that made you lose all control,” he grinned, and Jemma puffed out a little laugh in spite of herself, partly at his joke and partly to cover the awkwardness of how near the mark the joke actually was – especially as he’d made it standing shirtless and dripping wet in front of her, and she was finding it very difficult not to let her eyes roam over his torso. “But in reality I think we both know that you had been driving all day,” he continued, “you’d had no dinner, you were stressed about the whole thing, and you were knocking back the wine at a frankly impressive rate, whilst trying to dodge potential suitors so…there’s a recipe for beer goggles if ever I saw one.” 

He shrugged self-deprecatingly, and she didn’t know if she wanted to smack him or cry or just grab him and kiss him again. She wanted to tell him that he was so wrong, that she loved him more than anyone she’d ever met her whole life, and she was so attracted to him she could hardly stand it sometimes. She wanted to tell him she’d been planning that kiss since her mother had invited her to the party, but she’d had too much to drink and she’d fucked it up. But another part of her was so relieved and so grateful to him for letting her off the hook by assuming that it had only been because she was drunk. She nodded weakly, not trusting herself to speak. 

“So we can forget the whole thing ever happened and go back to being friends?” Fitz asked her with something in his voice that clutched at her heart.

“Of course,” Jemma smiled at him. “Always.” He smiled back in relief, and she looked down self-consciously.

“Okay,” he said awkwardly, after a pause. “I’m uh…I’m going to get out of the pool now,” he said, as he started pushing through the water away from her. “So, you can go on with your swim. Go ahead, don’t mind me.”

“It’s okay, Fitz, you don’t have to get out. You can stay if you’d like.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he called over his shoulder as he walked. “I’m done. But you go ahead. Start swimming.”

He stopped at the bottom of the steps and stood waiting, one hand on the rail, the other motioning for her to swim. She regarded him with faint amusement. “Why do you want me to start swimming before you get out? Do you not want me to see you in your trunks or something?”

“Nope, not really,” he replied, shaking his head, not looking at her.

She giggled at this. “You know I can already see pretty much all of you anyway?”

Fitz raised his eyes to the roof beams above him. “No,” he sighed deeply, “I don’t think you can.” She frowned at him, tilting her head in confusion. Why was he so self-conscious? From what she could see he had nothing to be embarrassed about. He was slim and boyish yes, but still nicely formed. It wasn’t because he really was worried about her fancying him after last night, was it? Her stomach dropped at that notion. Oh, god, he really was rejecting me, she thought. He was just letting me down gently today. Then she heard him mutter to himself, “At least I hope not.” He was studying the ceiling intently and his face was bright red. Sudden realisation dawned on Jemma and with a flutter of her insides, she started swimming vigorously.

When she got out of the pool, Jemma was still smiling to herself. She knew for definite now that Fitz was attracted to her. She had been right about his feelings, but for some reason he was holding back and she didn’t know why. Was it because he didn’t think she felt the same way, as he’d more or less implied in the pool? Or was it because he wanted to keep their relationship professional, as she had completely given up trying to do. Or was there some other reason? Her mind shot back to that first day they’d worked together, when he’d said something about problems in his personal life, and she realised that she’d never actually found out what they were. The unsettling thought occurred to her then that Fitz was keeping something from her.

There was not much point in her showering since she had nothing to change into except her smelly riding clothes. She dried herself with one of the towels they kept in a cupboard in the changing rooms, and got back into her gear. She walked back outside only to find Fitz waiting for her, sitting on a low stone wall that ran along the edge of the path, dressed in jeans and a blue and green checked shirt. His hair was all fluffy and he looked so cute that she couldn’t help smiling when she saw him. He returned her smile and stood up. “I just want to make sure that we’re really, really all right after last night. So now that we’re fully dressed…,” he held his arms out to her adorably, “…can I have a hug?”

She giggled joyfully. “I’m still all wet and I smell of sweat and horse. And now chlorine.”

“My three favourite smells in the world,” he said seriously. “I think everyone should smell of sweat and horse and chlorine. I’m actually thinking of making a fragrance from those three scents and marketing it. Also wet is my favourite…texture?”

She laughed at this, and moved towards him, bashfully stepping into his arms. He squeezed her tight and rocked her slightly, burying his face in her damp hair, and despite her embarrassment, she felt like she never wanted him to let her go. They broke apart awkwardly, and walked in silence down the path together.

They entered the house through the kitchen where they found themselves being accosted by Alice. She scolded them both for the fact they hadn’t eaten anything last night, and insisted they both make their way to the dining room whilst she made them a full breakfast. They parted ways in the hall and Jemma ran upstairs and had a quick shower whilst the food was being cooked. She pulled on a pair of rolled-up skinny jeans, a stripy top and a pair of Converse sneakers, and scraped her wet hair back into a ponytail. She ran back downstairs towards the dining room, where Fitz was sitting on by himself happily munching his breakfast. He mumbled through a mouthful of food that her family had just left. Feeling quietly thankful, Jemma sat down to hers, just as Alice came in and poured tea for her before topping Fitz’s up. He thanked the housekeeper and complimented her on the food. Alice beamed and told him he was more than welcome, calling him ‘duckie’, and Jemma knew that his boyish charm had won over at least one other woman in the house. She smiled to herself – she had known he and Alice would get on.

Realising there was no brown sauce on the table, Jemma leapt up and ran back to the kitchen to grab it, despite Alice’s protestations that she would get it for her. Alice re-entered the kitchen just as Jemma was leaving. “He’s a keeper, your young man,” Alice winked approvingly at her as they passed each other. “He has a nice way about him. Not like some others I could mention.” She gestured her head in an indistinct direction, but Jemma understood that she was talking about Jonathan.

“He’s not my young man, Alice,” Jemma gently chided whilst trying to keep the smile off her face. “We’re just friends.”

“Whatever you say, my love,” Alice replied in a knowing way. “Although I’m not so sure as ‘friends’ moon over each other the way you two do. The way that boy looks at you, it’s like he sees nothing else in the room. And you were never boy crazy like that sister of yours, you were always more interested in what was under your microscope, but you’re like a blushing schoolgirl around him. I’ve never seen you so smitten.” 

Jemma blushed hotly. “Well, that’s just…nonsense, Alice! You’ve been reading too many of your romance novels!” She ducked her head in defeat at Alice’s knowing smile. “I don’t know, Alice,” she sighed. “Something’s just not right. He’s keeping me at arm’s length and I don’t know why.”

“Then ask him, my pet,” Alice replied sagely.

 

Fitz had been awake since six, fretting over what he was going to say to Jemma in order to repair the damage of the night before. He would forever regret not telling her that he was putting an end to the proceedings not because he didn’t want her, but because she was intoxicated. However that would have meant a conversation this morning that he was not ready for, not until he could somehow tell her the truth about Charlotte without fear of recriminations. As it was, he had embarrassed Jemma and hurt her feelings, and he needed to make that right. He had decided that a swim before anyone else was up would clear help clear his head. For a while he just revelled in the sheer pleasure and peace of having an entire swimming pool to himself, and as he swam the thought occurred to him that his best tactic was to give her an out – to pretend that he rejected her advances because he didn’t believe that she could possibly mean them. Well, he hoped that it was pretence – there was a small part of him that feared that was the truth. But whatever her feelings, that explanation might help ease her embarrassment and hopefully allow them to move past this. 

He had mentally prepared his speech while he stroked up and down the pool, but was caught completely off-guard by the sight of Jemma striding into the pool-house in an extremely flattering bathing suit, all slender curves and creamy bare flesh. She just dived in without looking at him and he had frozen in the middle of the pool not sure what to do. Then she burst out of the water in front of him, looking totally startled by his presence and so self-conscious it hurt him. When she started talking about him travelling back to London with Charlotte and Jonathan (as if such a thing could ever happen) his heart felt like it splintered. She wanted nothing more to do with him - she didn’t even want to be in the car with him. She would rather he have to travel with the one person he hated most in the world. He thanked the confluence of events that led to Jonathan deciding to buy a car with no back seat so that there was absolutely no possibility of Fitz getting a lift back home with them. The train was a much more preferable option, even if it took a week to get to London, but when she started talking about him borrowing her car, he saw a loophole in her argument and decided to exploit it. He was damned if he was going to let their friendship disintegrate because of this one little miscommunication. He had an opportunity now to recite the speech he’d rehearsed and he was elated beyond reason when it had the desired effect. And then that little moment after she told him they’d always be friends, and she blushed and smiled so prettily, wrinkling her nose in an adorable way, and he suddenly became hyper aware of her standing in front of him in that bathing suit again and the memory of last night’s kiss came flooding back…he realised to his absolute horror that he was aroused. He tried to get out of the pool without her noticing, exhorting her to swim so she wouldn’t be looking at him. He thought he got away with it though, she seemed to put it down to his being self-conscious about his body, which was the absolute least of his concerns at that moment.

Even though they’d made up, he was still slightly worried that things would be awkward between them so he’d waited for her outside the pool. He had wanted to hug her after their talk, but he’d been afraid of the very reaction that had bloody happened anyway although they hadn’t even touched. That fear came back with a vengeance when she came out wearing form-fitting jodhpurs and an elegant figure-hugging jacket. He started reciting the periodic table in his head and braved it. As he hugged her however, he had a different unexpected reaction. A surge of emotion welled up in him as he realised there was so much more he wanted to say. He needed to do whatever it took to show Jemma how he felt and to make sure that Charlotte could no longer mess things up for them. He just wasn’t sure how to go about it.

When Jemma ran upstairs to get changed, he pondered whether to wait at the bottom of the stairs for her, or chance encountering her family in the dining room. The dilemma was solved for him when he met Jemma’s father leaving the dining room, with Charlotte and Jonathan following behind. Jonathan was drawling on about some skiing trip he’d had earlier in the year, and Charlotte was laughing an excessive amount for something that didn’t sound even remotely amusing. George rolled his eyes at Fitz, and Fitz realised with a start that despite the golf game and the casual lounging by the fireplace with drinks yesterday, Jemma’s father actually had little time for Jonathan. And the shared look with Fitz felt like a stamp of approval for him. This day was looking up. And Fitz was beginning to have the faintest stirrings of an idea.

Charlotte noticed Fitz then and keeping her eyes on him, she suddenly said, “By the way, Daddy, remember what I said to you about that completely useless assistant in my office? I really think we need to get rid of him. Shall I let him go tomorrow?”

George stopped and sighed, turning around to face her. “I tell you what, pumpkin, you send him to me. I’ll deal with him. I’ll have him moved to another department, okay? I’ll send you a new assistant.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Charlotte beamed, kissing him on the cheek, in a show entirely for Fitz’s benefit. “He really is a pain,” she sighed dramatically, “he can’t get anything right.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” George said, patting her hand. “We’ll get it sorted. Don’t you worry about it, there’s a good girl.”

Charlotte gave Fitz a self-satisfied little smirk and skipped off, while Jonathan followed looking slightly miffed that his ski-trip story had been interrupted. Fitz marvelled at what had just happened. Charlotte thought she had won a victory there, but in truth, George had merely deflected her attempts to have her assistant fired. Instead he had transferred the guy to another department, something the poor bloke would probably be ecstatic about if it meant he was no longer working for Charlotte. Still, George obviously didn’t like to upset his daughter, he seemed to like her to think that she was getting what she wanted even if she wasn’t. So there was hope for Fitz’s plan, but he would have to tread carefully here.

“Morning, Fitz! So what time are you and Jemma heading back?” George asked him. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Fitz replied. “Probably after breakfast, I’d imagine.”

“Well, I’m sorry you both couldn’t have stayed longer,” George responded kindly. “Maybe next time though. Come for a full weekend before you go to see this guy in New York, maybe.”

Fitz nodded, unable to process that he had just been invited back to the house. “Um…thank you, thank you very much, that’s very kind of you sir…George.”

“And, Fitz,” George added, as he started to walk away. “Don’t forget what I said to you last night. The job’s always there, if things don’t work out with Shield.”

“Thank you, George. Oh, and…,” Fitz called. George turned towards him. “Um, the next time you’re in London, maybe we could show you a demonstration of the D.W.A.R.F.s. And the gun. Which personally, I think should be called the Night-night Gun, but Jemma doesn’t seem to agree, but that’s neither here nor there. I’ll even let Jemma test a little bit of the dendrotoxin on me, so you can see how it works.”

George looked at him in faint surprise, as if it had never occurred to him before to take an interest in his daughter’s work. It was sad, thought Fitz, how Jemma’s parents really didn’t seem to understand what she did. They had no idea how brilliant she was. His mum didn’t really understand what he did either, but she was always so proud of him anyway. George Simmons appeared to be fascinated by the idea of Fitz’s drones and the gun – his toys really - so Fitz thought that an up-close demonstration might cause him to see how essential Jemma’s biochemistry expertise was to the whole process. Maybe it would give her father an appreciation of what she could do. It was about time that someone in the Simmons family understood Jemma’s genius. After a second, George nodded. “Yes, of course,” he assented, seeming somewhat embarrassed that he had never thought of asking before. “Yes, well, that would be lovely. I’ll be in town next week, would that suit?”

“Yes, that’d be great,” Fitz agreed. “Sneezy and Bashful are more or less ready, Grumpy will be fit to give you at least a working demonstration next week.”

George chuckled. “Great names!” he muttered almost to himself. “I’ll have my secretary contact Jemma and arrange a time then,” he continued, turning back to Fitz. “That’ll be interesting, I’ll look forward to that. In the meantime, you take care, Fitz. It was very nice to meet you, very nice indeed.” George pumped his hand heartily and walked off towards the stairs. Fitz let out a long breath. There was just one more awkward conversation he needed to have before he left here.

He found Fiona reading the paper while she finished her tea in the dining room. She greeted him somewhat coldly, and returned to her reading. He was frankly terrified of this woman and he didn’t think she liked him at all, but decided that this was worth a try – he had nothing to lose really. He took a deep breath as he pulled out a chair.

“Mrs Simmons?” Fiona looked up from her paper with a frown. She looked worn and unhappy. “I’m very sorry to disturb you,” he continued in a soft voice. “I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality and to tell you that you have an absolutely beautiful home.”  
It could just have been his imagination, but Fiona’s tight smile seemed a tad more genuine than yesterday. “Thank you, Leo,” she replied. “That’s very kind of you. And you’re very welcome.”

“I mean, the party was wonderful, everything was just perfect. I don’t know how you organise something like that, it must take a lot of work.”

Fiona raised her eyebrows in slight surprise, and brought her hand to her throat, seemingly gratified. “Well, yes. Yes, it takes a lot of planning and preparation and organisation.”

“Yes, I could tell. I know Charlotte is a corporate event planner, she must have inherited her skills from you then.”

“Yes, I’d say so. Indeed.” Fiona was looking quite pleased with herself at this stage.

“You have a very talented family.” He chuckled lightly. “You and Charlotte will have to plan a big party when Jemma wins her Nobel prize.”

Fiona lowered the paper and looked at him with curiosity. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s only a matter of time, to be honest,” he continued as he poured himself some tea. “She’s absolutely brilliant, your daughter, the best I’ve ever seen. I mean, I’m not a biochemist obviously, but the things she’s doing are way beyond where everyone else is in the field. Research labs all over the country are trying to recruit her. Her dendrotoxin formula is absolutely ground-breaking. I’d say she’d definitely be nominated for a Biochemistry Prize, but if the gun we’re working on is successful, I’d even go so far as to say she could get the Peace Prize. We’ve also talked about making a grenade which would be able to mobilise large numbers of people at the one time, which could have a huge impact on defence, even riot control? She could even make the honours list – an OBE, or a CBE – perhaps she’d even be made a Dame.”

Fiona had put her paper to one side and was giving Fitz her full attention now. “Do you really think so?” she asked with great interest, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table. Alice bustled in with Fitz and Jemma’s breakfasts, and Fitz leaned back to allow her to place his in front of him. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, lifting his knife and fork. “Definitely. If we can get this contract with Shield you see, a big company like that has far more resources and money to allow Jemma to carry out the research that she needs to in order to create something like that. They also have the expertise in place to assist her in development and testing, so she could get it done far quicker than if she had to rely on funding bodies.” He tucked into his breakfast, making appreciative noises as he did so. A quick glance told him Fiona was looking very thoughtful, and he smiled to himself. 

“Didn’t you make this gun though?” she asked then.

“I only made the mechanism for delivering the dendrotoxin,” he replied, spearing a sausage with his fork. “It’s Jemma’s formula that’s the really exciting part.”

Leaning her elbow on the table, she brought her hand up to her chin and rested her head on it while she processed this information. 

“But if she’s making the formula for Shield, won’t they own the rights to it?” she continued.

He swallowed his food to speak. “She’ll have to sign a contract giving them intellectual property rights, yes, to allow them to manufacture it. But she’ll still be credited with the work. Any awards would go to her, not Shield.” He took a drink of his tea, and said, “You know, Mrs Simmons, Mr Simmons is going to come for a demonstration when he’s in London next week. Maybe you could come with him? Jemma could show you how it works. I don’t think you’d really believe it until you see it in action.”

She quirked her head at this, and then nodded slowly, as if thinking about it. “Perhaps I will, Leo. That’s an idea.” The smile she gave him then was actually pleasant. She got up from the table. “I’m glad you enjoyed your stay. It was very nice to meet you. It’s good to know that Jemma’s work is so important, she never really explains it to us, you see. And it’s wonderful that she’s met you, Le…I mean…Fitz. It’s reassuring to know she has such a supportive friend as well as what is obviously a very productive partnership.”

He looked at her in shock. He wasn’t expecting such a quick turnaround. The idea that Jemma could achieve high status on her own merits without needing a strategic marriage was clearly a revelation to her. He suspected that the idea of having a title in the family, especially one gained through such lauded achievement, gave her a leg up on some of her social circle. She smiled beatifically at him, gently patting his shoulder as she walked past him on her way out looking very happy indeed. Making sure she was gone, Fitz gave a quick fist pump, before returning to his breakfast. Jemma came running into the room, looking somehow just as pretty with no make-up and her hair tied back as she had in her evening wear last night. She lifted the silver cover off her breakfast and sat opposite him, and Alice came in with a fresh pot of tea. Fitz decided that this weekend had turned out to be a good one after all.


	8. Two Fights and A Whole Lot of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz finally discovers why Hunter's been so hostile, and Jemma decides to confront Fitz about the mixed signals he's been giving her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than usual, but a LOT happens in it! I considered splitting it into two chapters and posting them at the same time, but then I thought, if I did that, I might as well just post it as all the one chapter!

Fitz drove them home from Devon while Jemma slept for almost two hours in the back seat of the car. Shortly after she woke they stopped at a motorway services to use the toilet and get a cup of tea. She offered to take over the driving, but he was enjoying it too much. He hadn't been behind the wheel since the last time he was back in Glasgow, and he'd forgotten how much he missed it. They chatted about the party for most of the rest of the journey, avoiding the aborted kiss like an unexploded mine. Instead they bonded over their mutual dislike of Jonathan, and Jemma kept Fitz amused with her recounting of the mind-numbing conversation she’d had with Guy. Fitz decided to keep George’s job offer to himself for the moment. It had given him an idea of sorts and he wasn’t ready to discuss it with Jemma just yet. There was some groundwork to be laid first.

They eventually reached London and Fitz drove them to his street in Finchley. Jemma got into the driver's seat while he got his bag out of the boot. He went over to her window, leaning down to say goodbye and to thank her for the invite. He ruffled her hair as he made to walk away, a final gesture of affection to lock their friendship in place after the upset of last night. He was still slightly worried that a rift had formed that they wouldn’t be able to heal, and things wouldn’t pick up as normal when they met at the lab in two days’ time. He turned around to wave as she drove away, feeling the usual sense of loss he experienced when they parted ways – only this time a little keener.

He climbed the stairs to his flat, letting himself in the front door. He stopped short when he saw Hunter on the sofa, turning his head to look at Fitz as he came in. There was football on the TV and a beer in his hand, so he obviously hadn’t been counting on Fitz coming home any time soon. "Where the hell have you been all weekend?" Hunter asked sourly, as he turned back towards the TV. "Finally got your leg over with the wonderful Jemma, have you? You’re never here now that you have a little scientist lady friend to do science-y things with. You'll be too good for the likes of this flat soon."

"Oh, it speaks now, does it?" Fitz spat, dropping his bag on the ground. "Go fuck yourself, Hunter. I don't know what's got up your arse lately, but first of all, don't talk about Jemma like that, you don't even know her. And where do you get off, you don't even speak to me for weeks, and then all of a sudden you're pissed off because you're on your own for two days. Annoyed because your posh fuck buddy went swanning off to a society do with her fancy boy-toy, are we?"

"Her what?" Hunter looked confused rather than annoyed.

"Oh, you didn't know she had a bloke, did you? Yeah, you're her dirty little secret, I'm afraid mate, not her Prince Charming. She's prepared to ruin my life to keep her social circle from finding out about her sordid shenanigans with you, so I wouldn't expect any VIP invitations."

Hunter shrugged. "I'm not bothered, I don't really care what she does. I'm fucked off with her and her demands anyway."

"Then why the fuck have you been so pissy with me, if it's not because she's got you twisted around her little finger?" Fitz snapped at him.

"Well, that's nothing to do with her, is it?" Hunter raised his voice at him. "I'm surprised you couldn't figure it out, a fucking genius like you. I wouldn't have been able to though, I'm too thick, ain't I, _Leo_?" he shouted. Fitz stared at him as if he'd been slapped.

"What the fuck are you talking about, _Lance_?" he asked angrily.

"I know what you really think of me, Fitz," Hunter yelled, as he leapt up from the sofa to face him. "I know what you said to Jemma about me. She told Charlotte." Fitz stared at him in confusion, his brain rapidly going over the only conversation he'd ever had with Jemma about Hunter, on the first day they'd met for tea.

"What? I told her you were SAS, and then the whole story of how you met Bobbi and then broke up and you were in a bad way and how she put you in touch with Shield and you did the same for me. I said you were my best friend – although that’s not really true anymore, is it? I said we're really different and don't have much in common. I said you liked beer and football, which you do. Is that what offended you?"

"Oh, is that how you put it, that ‘we’re really different’ and ‘don’t have much in common’?” Hunter retorted. “Is that the polite way of saying, ‘I’m a genius and he’s a fucking idiot’? Because that’s what she told her sister. Charlotte said Jemma told her you said I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed and you had to dumb yourself down to talk to me, and it was really boring for you and you were glad you found someone who was as smart as you that you could talk to, instead of having to spend all your time with some dumb brute of a bouncer!" he spat at Fitz, red in the face now.

Fitz was utterly incapable of doing anything other than opening and closing his mouth like a fish. It took him a moment to be able to gather his thoughts enough to speak. "What a load of absolute and utter shite!" he finally gasped. "I would never, ever, ever say that. Why would you ever think I'd say that? I can't believe you bought that bollocks! First of all, if you knew anything about that twisted she-demon at all, then you would know that she and Jemma are not close, and they wouldn't have had a long enough conversation to get around to discussing the flatmate of the guy Jemma had just met that afternoon. Secondly, Charlotte hates me! She absolutely fucking despises me, Hunter! You heard all the shit she pulled with me in work! Why would you believe anything she'd say about me?"

Hunter was looking much less sure of himself now.

"Thirdly," Fitz continued, in a calmer voice, "I'd never say that about you, Hunter, because I've never ever thought that about you. I wouldn't be friends with you if I did. And I don't know what I've done to make you think I would say that." Fitz couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice now, and Hunter had the good grace to look ashamed of himself.

"I don't know, mate," he shrugged sheepishly. "I think she hit a nerve, to be honest. Look,” he explained, rubbing his forehead in consternation, “it's actually not that easy being best friends with someone who's basically a genius. I was never that good at school and I hated science. I left when I was 16 and went straight into the army. I don't understand what you're talking about half the time, Fitz. I kinda always felt like you must think I'm an idiot, so when Charlotte said that..." He tailed off, shrugging uncomfortably again.

"Hunter," Fitz said firmly, "you were in the SAS, the most elite regiment in the entire British army. Only the best and brightest get into the SAS. Not only that, but you then worked as an intelligence officer for one of the biggest private security companies in the world, and out of everyone he must have interviewed for the job, including all the people who already work there, Phil Coulson felt you alone had the skills and experience and know-how to be his top weapons training specialist. I am in awe of what you can do, it impresses the hell out of me and makes me feel woefully inadequate. It was you who gave me the idea to make the gun for Jemma's formula, remember? You're a soldier, Hunter, and a spy and a weapons expert. You're no more a bouncer than I am a barista."

Hunter hung his head, and wrapped his arms around himself. "I'm sorry, mate," he said in a small voice. "I fucked up. I've been a right arsehole."

"Yeah, you have," Fitz agreed. "At the very least, why didn't you come and talk to me about it, instead of avoiding me for a month?"

"I think I was afraid if I did that, you'd say or do something to confirm it was true," Hunter confessed. "Look, it's basically the worst thing I think about myself, and of all the people in the world, you're the person I least want thinking that. You're my best mate. And you're the smartest person I know. The idea that you thought I was stupid...just crushed me. Also..." He sighed and hung his head again, kicking at the floor for a moment before he spoke. "There's kind of another reason I was avoiding you. A conversation I didn't want to have." He looked Fitz in the eye and said, "You were right when you said I’m not a bouncer. Not anymore, anyway. I got fired."

"What?!" Fitz stared at him.

"I went into work the day after I first hooked up with Charlotte and they'd seen us on the security footage. It's bullshit, because the other door staff and the bar staff have all got off with people in work and nobody's ever batted an eyelid, but they freaked out over Charlotte because of who her dad is. They fired me as like a pre-emptive thing, in case he complained or something."

"You mean you've been unemployed for over a month?" Fitz could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Where the hell have you been going at night?"

Hunter shrugged. "Different places. Sometimes I go down the pub and just play darts or pool by myself until closing time. Sometimes I'll call an old army mate for a drink, sometimes I'll wander round on my own. To be honest, recently most nights after I leave the flat, I just climb back up the fire escape and back in through my bedroom window," he said dejectedly.

Fitz gaped at him, his mouth hanging open. "Do you mean to tell me," he eventually said, "that when I've been thinking you've been out at work in the evenings, you've actually been in your room the whole time?"

Hunter nodded sheepishly. “Watching football on my laptop with headphones.”

Fitz just stared at him again. Finally he asked, “What did you do then? Climb back out the window and down the fire escape again to come in from work?”

Hunter shrugged with a wry smile. “Yep. That’s exactly what I did.”

A sudden explosion of sound burst through Fitz’s mouth and nostrils simultaneously. He doubled over, crumpling almost to the ground as a fit of helpless laughter overcame him. Hunter joined in, covering his face with his hands as the absolute absurdity of his actions sunk in. “Wha…what….what did you do when you needed to pee?!” Fitz gasped, grabbing onto the back of a chair as he tried to breathe through his mirth.

“I kept an empty bottle in the room!” Hunter squawked. “Once…hahaha!” He took a second to gather himself. “Once I needed a shit as well, and I had to climb out the window and leg it down to the pub. I just about made it in time!” he cried all in the one breath, convulsing as he spoke, and simultaneously their laughter evaporated into breathy, wheezing sounds as they both struggled for air, flailing about in near hysteria.

“Ahhhhhh!” Fitz sighed, wiping his eyes, his chest still heaving. “I take it all back, you are absolutely an idiot!”

“I know!” Hunter was almost hyperventilating now.

“I mean, I can’t believe people gave you weapons. You shouldn’t be allowed out on your own!”

Hunter snorted, covering his hands with his eyes.

“Seriously, though, what the fuck, man?” Fitz said through the odd residual giggle bubbling up from his chest. “You fucking stubborn bastard, why didn’t you just say to me?”

Hunter shook his head, his breathing beginning to return to normal. “I don’t know, man, it’s been a weird month. I already thought you thought I was an idiot, I didn’t want to tell you I’d been fired as well.”

“You’re an absolute lunatic. Where you in there when Jemma was here?”

“Yeah, a few times. That’s how I know you still haven’t done anything about that, by the way,” Hunter added, smacking the side of Fitz’s head. “She sounds lovely, from what I could hear, totally different from Charlotte. I can’t believe they’re related.”

“What the fuck’s the deal with Charlotte, Hunter? What’s that about?” Fitz asked him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hunter sighed. “The night I got fired, I was so pissed off I called her and gave her an earful down the phone, telling her I got fired because of her and her dad. I mean, it was my own fault for having sex in work, I just needed someone to blame I suppose. I was pissed off at you as well, because she fed me that shit about you that morning, after you left for the lab. Anyway, I don’t know, she’s warped, that one - apparently she thought my ranting was a turn on, and she showed up at the flat. If you were wondering why that cupboard door in the kitchen’s hanging half off now, it came away when she grabbed it when we…”

“I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know,” Fitz cried, waving his hands and shutting his eyes tight. “No mental images, please, I’m already traumatised by the things I’ve heard.” He opened his eyes again and looked at Hunter. “But do you actually like her?” he asked.

“No, I hate her!” Hunter groaned. “She really, seriously does my head in, I can’t stand her!”

“Then what the hell, Hunter?! Why do you keep sleeping with her? What is wrong with you, why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I wish I knew, mate.” He sank back down onto the sofa again, taking a drink of his beer. “I think it’s because of what happened with Bobbi. I never told you the full story, did I?” Fitz shook his head, and pulled off his jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair before sitting beside Hunter on the sofa.

“The thing with Bob is…was…I know, in her own way, she did love me. But the truth is she was married to her work. Spying is her first love, it always came first. And I kind of knew that but…when we got back to the States, after we got married, Bobbi got me this job with another private firm. They did a lot of different things, one of them was tracking down bail jumpers, that was my job. A bounty hunter, in other words. And you know, she would ask me about my day when I got in, and I would chat about work, as you do, you know, with your wife.”

“I don’t know actually,” Fitz replied wryly. “But go on.”

Hunter shrugged an apology. “Then one day, I get back early from a case, and I hear people saying the new head of security had arrived from head office, was making an inspection, and I look, and there’s Bobbi, striding around. She was undercover. The CIA was fucking investigating the firm, they suspected them of being a cover for an organised crime syndicate, and she sent me in there under false pretences to get her information. I mean, why didn’t she just tell me that’s what she wanted me to do? I would have gone along with that. But I wasn’t CIA, it was against protocol. She used me to get the intel. And the bail jumpers I was catching were people who had gone against this crew, and she knew that. It was just one lie after another with her, and I realised that I’d never be able to trust her. And she couldn’t understand why that was a problem. To her the work’s more important than anything, deceit comes with the territory, you get over it. But how can you trust someone when they’re keeping things from you all the time?”

He took another swig of his beer, and Fitz watched the liquid move in the bottle, his stomach hitting the floor as he thought about what he was keeping from Jemma. Hunter smacked his lips and lowered the bottle. “Anyway,” he continued, “I suppose I just don’t want to have to trust anyone ever again. That’s why I get involved with women like Raina and Charlotte, that I know I’ll never want to trust.”

“That’s sad, Hunter,” Fitz said, after a moment. “You deserve better than that, you know.”

Hunter shrugged, and took another drink.

“Also,” Fitz added, “your life is weird.”

They both snorted. “Amen to that,” Hunter chuckled, raising his bottle. “Hey,” he said, as if recalling something. “What did you mean, when you said Charlotte was prepared to ruin your life to stop people finding out about me and her?”

Fitz took a deep breath and then began to tell him the whole story of what Charlotte had said on the first morning she’d stayed there. Hunter looked increasingly horrified as the tale went on, and as Fitz finished with what she’d said to him at the party the night before, Hunter stood up so fast he knocked his beer over.

“That’s it,” he roared. “I’m heading right over to see her now and tell her that if she does anything to jeopardise your career or your relationship with Jemma, she’s going to see a kiss and tell from me plastered all over the front of the Sunday tabloids. I have an old army mate who works for the Metropolitan Police now, he can get me that security footage from the club.”

“No, no, Hunter!” Fitz panicked, grabbing his friend, and pulling him back from the door. “You can’t do that! If she thinks you have anything like that on her…I’m not kidding when I say that her father is a powerful man and he dotes on her, he will destroy you if you did something like that, even if you just threatened it, you would never work for Shield.” Hunter stopped and looked at him warily. “You’ll be a bouncer for the rest of your life, mate,” Fitz said more gently now.

“So I’m supposed to just sit back and let her pull that shit on you?” Hunter growled.

“Yes,” Fitz replied. “Because she warned me not to tell you what she said to me, so you can’t let on that you know. But don’t worry, I have a plan. Well, the bones of a plan anyway. I need to neutralise Charlotte’s threats. I need to secure our future at Shield, mine, yours and Jemma’s. I need to keep the coffee shop job until then, and I need for Jemma to know what’s been going on…without actually telling her. Once Jemma knows about you and her sister, then Charlotte has no need to threaten me anymore, not once she knows Jemma found out some other way than me. Then I can tell Jemma everything, and hope that she finds it in her to forgive me some day. And this is where you come in, Hunter.”

“What do you need me to do, mate?”

“You’ve done undercover work, right? You’ve had to get into character and that?” Fitz asked him.

“Oscar material, mate,” Hunter replied, gesturing at himself with a cocky expression.

“Okay, then. For this to work, we need to start tonight. Hunter, I need you…to fall in love with Charlotte Simmons.”

 

By the next morning, the tiny seed of doubt about Fitz that had planted itself in Jemma's mind had grown into a massive oak that was engulfing her entire being. She had tossed and turned all night, and this morning her stomach was churning so much she could hardly eat anything. She fretted over what Fitz could possibly be hiding from her, and found herself asking for the first time how much she really knew about this man. Alice had told her to ask Fitz what it was he wasn’t telling her, but Jemma suddenly doubted that she had that right. The intimacy of their bond over the past month appeared as a mirage in the face of a multitude of terrible secrets he could be harbouring. Her body felt like a fragile husk of tissue that was threatening to break apart any minute with the force of overwhelming pain. She wondered anew about the mysterious Hunter and why she had not yet met this supposed best friend with a past like something out of a spy movie. Did he have anything to do with whatever Fitz was keeping from her? Was it something to do with his world of mercenaries and espionage? Fitz wasn't involved in anything criminal, was he? It occurred to Jemma that someone with Fitz's skills could be very valuable to some kind of international criminal gang.

Oh God, what was she saying?! She was absolutely losing her mind now, thinking Fitz could ever be involved in something like that. It defied all reason and logic. But reason and logic had long ago fled the scene when it came to her feelings about Fitz. She had never come even remotely close to falling for someone this hard before and it had left her feeling more vulnerable than she could remember. She had always been a self-contained unit - she didn't make friends easily but she had her studies to fall back on and that had always sustained her. But now even her work was so tied up with Fitz that the sanctuary of the lab was failing her. Nowhere was safe from the potential heartbreak that lay before her. This would never do. She was becoming a mad woman, she couldn't let herself fall apart over a thought in her head. She needed to find out once and for all why Fitz kept withdrawing from her, why it was his walls would go up every time they got close. She needed to know what the hell this relationship was before it went any further.

It was with a business-like attitude that she strode into the lab that morning, only to remember when she got there that Fitz was working in the coffee shop that day, and wouldn't be in. Her mission thus thwarted, she sighed and went about the business of analysing her data samples. By two o'clock however it was clear that her focus was elsewhere. The amount of silly mistakes she had made were frustrating her so much that she decided to pack up for the day and head to the coffee shop. It was unfair, she knew, to blindside him with this whilst he was working, but she honestly couldn't take it anymore - at the very least, she needed him to know that she was aware that there was something wrong. She wanted to see what his reaction was, how he would deal with it.

She arrived at the coffee shop, fists clenched, speech prepared, only to be completely thrown as she walked through the door. Charlotte was there, ensconced in her usual comfy chair in the corner and holding court to a gaggle of expensively-dressed young women. Charlotte was always the head of a clique at school; the membership of said clique appeared to have a high turnover, and obviously the pattern had continued into adult life, as Jemma did not recognise any of its current members. She supposed that made her a bad sister, and entertained the fleeting thought that she should start to take more of an interest in Charlotte's life. Then she remembered that Charlotte had been singularly horrible about Jemma's one and only real friend, and decided that she wouldn't bother. That’s if Fitz really was her friend, of course. Remembering why she was there, she looked for him, her stomach roiling again. She saw him making coffees behind the counter, his face like a dark sky about to rain down a storm. She wondered if Charlotte and her cabal were the cause of his bad mood, or if it was the thing he was hiding from her that was upsetting him. She faltered in the doorway of the coffee shop, unsure of what to do. She didn't want to talk to Fitz about whatever it was if Charlotte was here. Now that she thought about it, this was a terrible place to try to talk to him. She was being completely irrational again. She should just go home and...

"Jems! Hi! Guys, I don't think you've met my sister, have you?" Charlotte was waving her over. Hearing this Fitz lifted his head and when she met his eye, his face transformed from a heavy scowl into something quite beautiful. It left her breathless. His smile had become her favourite sight in the world and it occurred to her that although she'd only known him a month, she couldn't now imagine her life without him. And that terrified her. She turned away from his gaze, ducking her head as she made her way over to Charlotte.

"How did you know I was here?" Charlotte inquired, as Jemma approached the table smiling and nodding at Charlotte's friends who were regarding her with open curiosity. Jemma wondered what they had heard about her.

"Oh, I didn't," she replied. "I actually came to see Fitz."

"Oh, of course, the barista is Jemma's lab assistant," Charlotte drawled for the benefit of her friends, waving her hand somewhat contemptuously in Fitz's direction.

"He's not my assistant, he's my partner," Jemma replied crossly. She didn't want to start an argument in front of Charlotte's friends but she wasn't going to let her away with trying to put Fitz down again.

"Oh, I thought he was just making a gun thing for your whatsit, your formula thingy?"

"He is," Jemma replied through a forced smile. "And I'm providing biochemical analysis expertise for his robots. That's what's called a partnership, Charlotte." The little clique were all exchanging looks now, and Jemma remembered why she never socialised with her sister. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go see him about our work. It was lovely to meet you all. I'll see you later, Charlotte." She started to walk away from the table.

"You're not staying for a drink?" Charlotte pouted at her.

"I'm afraid it’s rather urgent that I talk to Fitz," Jemma called back. "Another time, perhaps." By which she meant never. It was a terrible thing to dislike one's own sister, but Jemma had tried to be understanding and accepting, and it was to no avail because she was reaching the conclusion that Charlotte was just a very unlikeable person.

Fitz was leaning on the counter looking at her with concern when she arrived. "Hey," he said softly. "I thought we sorted everything out yesterday. I thought we were okay again?"

"We are," she squeaked in surprise.

"Then why did you look away, Jemma? When I smiled at you as you came in the door?" he asked. Jemma inhaled quickly and stood there looking back at him. She had no idea what to say in response.

"Jemma, what's wrong? Why did you need to speak with me urgently?"

"Oh, you heard that? I just said that to get away..."

"Yeah, I heard that, and I heard that I'm your assistant too," he grinned wryly. "You told Charlotte you were here to see me. You never leave the lab this early. And coming here at this time...it's out of your way for going home. You're a creature of habit. You wouldn't have come here if you didn't need to see me about something. And you had your fists curled up into little balls when you came in the door, that's always a sign that you're nervous about something."

"I do need to talk to you about something, but you're working now and Charlotte's here and...we should just do this later."

"What is it, what do you need to talk to me about? Can I get a hint at least? It’s worrying me now."

"I need to ask you something. I mean, there's something I need to know." She was avoiding looking at him, instead concentrating on attempting to wring the anxiety out of her hands. She mentally cursed herself for being completely unable to keep it together.

"So ask. If I can't talk about it right now, I'll talk to you later, but I need to know what's upsetting you."

"Why have I never met Hunter? Why do you get in a bad mood sometimes and pull away from me and refuse to tell me what's happening?" Fitz took a sharp breath as he straightened up and stepped back from the counter. He looked down at his feet, as if thinking about what to say. But now she had started Jemma felt unable to stop, she had too many questions. "Why am I never sure if you like me or not, because sometimes it seems like you do, and then other times it's like you're actively pulling away from me, and I don't know what's going on with you, I feel like there's something you're not telling me and you're my best friend in the world..."

"Yeah, and you're more than that, Jemma," Fitz interrupted her, his head snapping up and his expression pained as he gazed longingly at her. She stopped in mid-flow, her mouth hanging open as she stared back at him, unable to process what he was saying.

"I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to tell you before,” he continued. “And I'm sorry if this messes things up between us now. But I just needed you to know that, so that you would believe me when I say that I would never, ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. I would never lie to you unless I felt I had no choice...unless,” he said, his words suddenly slow and deliberate, “there was something I knew that someone else didn’t want you to know.” His eyes flicked off to one side before flicking back to hers, and Jemma took a hesitant, surreptitious glance over her shoulder at what his eyes had directed her to. She found herself looking straight at where Charlotte was sitting, leaning across to her friends in a conspiratorial manner, as if she were gossiping about someone. She looked back at Fitz in shock, and he met her eyes with a level gaze, and a very slight, almost indiscernible nod. “I was afraid that this person would get angry if I told you and that something bad would happen, something that threatens everything you and I have worked for,” he continued. “I’m sorry I lied to you, Jemma. I was afraid."

Shaking her head in confusion, she opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about, but before she could speak, he started talking much louder. "But I don't believe in fear. I believe in trust," he announced, boring into her eyes with his intense blue light. She started at this for a second before she somehow understood that he was telegraphing her a request to trust him. "So if you don't trust me, Jemma," he continued vociferously, as he reached for a napkin and leant to write something on it, "then I suggest you look elsewhere for the help you need." He stood up straight again and his eyes briefly flicked in Charlotte's direction again before he returned his steady gaze to her. Jemma was suddenly aware of Charlotte and her friends watching them.

She was a maelstrom of emotions in this moment – Fitz had basically just told her that he was in love with her, but that something involving her sister, something that Charlotte didn’t want her to know about was the reason he had been holding back. Her mind whirled as to what it could be and came up with nothing. It looked like Fitz wanted to tell her but couldn’t for some reason – none of this made any sense. But Fitz had said he had feelings for her and had asked her to trust him. Instinct was telling her to take a leap of faith. She folded her arms across her chest and stood up straight. The knot of fear that had been gnawing at her insides all day began to turn to anger. What the fuck had Charlotte done, and why was it affecting Jemma’s closest relationship?

She met Fitz’s eyes directly. "You want me to leave, don't you, Fitz?" she replied emphatically, making sure that Charlotte could hear her. Fitz gave her a very slight nod and the tiniest quirk of his mouth as if to communicate his approval. Just as quickly his face rearranged itself into a steely expression, as he reached across into the back of the display counter and took something out. Jemma was too busy watching his face to notice what he was doing.

"Perhaps it would be for the best," he declared coldly, as he stood back up again. "Why don't you go home, Jemma? I think you'll find what you're looking for there." She became aware that he was pushing something across the counter to her. She palmed it and stuck it in her pocket, before turning and storming out of the cafe. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charlotte jumping up and rushing to follow her. As she emerged into the street, she lifted the object Fitz had passed her out of her pocket and glanced at it. It was a napkin, wrapped around something. Taking a quick look behind her to make sure that Charlotte was not yet close enough to see, she pulled it open. Inside were some of her favourite gluten-free biscuits, and on the napkin itself was written: _7 pm. Answers. Keep her there. Love, Fitz._


	9. The Truth Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Charlotte receive a surprise visitor at their home, and Jemma comes to a realisation about her sister.

Charlotte came rushing out into the street after Jemma, her face a mask of concern, but her eyes alight with something like...victory? Jemma struggled to contain the muddle of confused reactions swirling inside her. _What was going on?!_ Fitz had just told her that he had feelings for her, but there was some reason that he hadn't acted on them and it was clear that it had something to do with Charlotte. She had no idea what on earth it could be, but looking at Charlotte now, Jemma saw that she was thoroughly delighted by the apparent falling out that had just happened between her and Fitz. Jemma's blood boiled. Her sister did not like Fitz and had obviously been trying to come between them. As soon as she found out what exactly had happened, Jemma was going to read Charlotte the riot act. How dare she try and interfere in Jemma's relationships? This is why he'd been holding back all this time, because of her sister and something she'd said or done? And why couldn't he just tell her what it was? Why all the secrecy? Whatever the reason she knew that Fitz felt it was important that they employ this ruse, and he had asked her to trust him, so she was going to do just that. Charlotte might be her sister, but Jemma didn't trust her as far as she could throw her. She had always been inherently selfish and too used to getting her own way to be someone that anyone could rely on. Also, Jemma knew that Charlotte was a snob and disapproved of Fitz solely because of his socio-economic status, so she supposed it didn't surprise her that Charlotte might actively try and sabotage Jemma's relationship with him. And right now, Jemma could see, she thought whatever she had done had worked.

"Jems! What happened? What did he do to upset you?" Charlotte’s voice was full of affected concern, and Jemma became afraid that this ruse might fail because she wouldn't be able to stop herself from slapping her sister.

"Nothing, Charlotte," she snapped, walking briskly ahead of her. "I don't want to talk about it." She remembered then that Fitz had said "keep her there" in his note, meaning he wanted Jemma to try and keep Charlotte at home until 7. Jemma had no influence over Charlotte’s actions so the only way she was going to be able to do that was to give her exactly what she wanted. The problem was that Jemma was a terrible liar. Therefore her sole option was to tell Charlotte the truth - or at least a version of it. She sighed, halting in her tracks and turning to face Charlotte. "I don't know, Charlotte. Fitz is keeping secrets from me. I have no idea what, and so I confronted him about it and he got angry about it and basically told me to bugger off." The tension and anxiety she'd been feeling all day, as well as all the drama of what had transpired in the coffee shop were breaking through the tight rein she’d been keeping on her emotions. She was finding it very easy to sound upset. Her voice cracked a few times and she realised that she was thankfully close to tears. This was perfect. "I don't know what's going on," she continued. She recalled one of her wilder theories from earlier about Fitz's secretive behaviour that made her feel rather ashamed now. "I think..." A beautifully timed sob escaped from her throat, and Jemma couldn't believe how convincing she was making this, thanks to her convenient emotional release. "I think he might be trying to steal my research for Shield!" Another sob engulfed her last word, and she was properly crying now, her shoulders heaving and the tears streaming down her cheeks in the middle of the street. It was pure stress relief she knew, but to Charlotte it would look like Jemma was heartbroken.

"Oh, that slimy bastard, I knew he was bad news! I told you he couldn’t be trusted, Jemma! Oh, don't cry, he's not worth it! We'll deal with him. I'll talk to Daddy tonight, get him to talk to Shield, make sure he never gets that job, or take your research anywhere."

Jemma's sobs briefly turned to hiccups as the shock of what her sister had just said hit her, and she stared at Charlotte through her tears. "He...he can do that?"

"Absolutely! If we talk to him, tell him that Fitz is trying to steal your research, he'll be livid, he'll use his influence to make sure Fitz never works for Shield. He can make sure he stays in that coffee shop job forever!"

Jemma stared at her sister in absolute horror now. "But I don't even know that he's trying to steal my research. I don't have any proof."

"Oh, it doesn't matter, babes! Daddy'll be so angry, he won't need proof, he'll believe you if you say that. And he'll make sure that Shield don't hire him."

Jemma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d be touched that her little sister was so intent on getting revenge against the guy who’d apparently broken Jemma’s heart if she didn’t believe that Charlotte was entirely motivated by her dislike of Fitz rather than any empathy for Jemma. And where did this drastic solution come from, sabotaging his career at Shield before it had even begun? She’d come up with it so quickly that it crossed Jemma’s mind that Charlotte had already been thinking along such lines. She imagined that since Charlotte appeared to be involved with whatever Fitz was hiding, she knew perfectly well that Fitz was not trying to steal Jemma's research, so this plan to induce their father to dissuade Shield from hiring Fitz was pure spite. She knew Charlotte didn't give a flying fuck about Jemma's research one way or another. She felt sick to her stomach that a member of her own family could be capable of such a horrible thing. Momentarily, she thought about dropping the entire ruse and telling Charlotte exactly how disgusted she was that her little sister had turned into such a hateful, conniving, petty person. But if she fought with Charlotte now whatever Fitz had planned wouldn't come to fruition if Charlotte stormed off, so she needed to maintain the pretence. Luckily, another sobbing fit was imminent.

"Oh god, Charlotte, I've been such a fool!" she wailed. "You know I actually kissed him?" Charlotte's eyes widened, and her mouth opened in surprise. Jemma nodded. "Yeah, at the party. And he's been lying to me this whole time! Charlotte, will you please come home with me and stay? I don't think I can be alone tonight."

"Oh, babes, of course! Come on, we'll go home now, and I'll open a bottle of wine, and you'll feel better in no time. You're better off without him, Jemma, he was nowhere near good enough for you. You can do so much better. I'll fix you up with someone, you'll see. What about Guy, hmmm? I saw you talking to him at the party, isn't he fab?"

Jemma felt that 7.00pm could not come too soon because there was only so much more of this horseshit she could take.

7.00pm eventually did roll around, after Charlotte had drunk nearly a full bottle of wine, and Jemma had nursed one glass for over two hours, listening to Charlotte droning on about her long list of romantic failures, most of which amounted to her dating guys who didn't quite worship her in the way that she obviously felt strongly that they should. For once, however, Jemma was glad to keep the topic of conversation to the wonderful world of Charlotte Simmons. Talking about herself was Charlotte’s favourite thing so it kept her from taking every opportunity to tell Jemma what a terrible person Fitz was and how she was just lucky she hadn't made a fool of herself by publicly dating him. As Charlotte talked, Jemma had initially got angrier and angrier, silently fuming and staring into her glass while her sister spouted the most horrific snobbery and self-involved, self-aggrandising tripe. But the longer the conversation went on, and the more Charlotte drank, the sadder Jemma became, thinking about how maybe if she hadn't been so engrossed in her studies when they were younger, and had paid more attention to her sister, taken her under her wing a bit more, perhaps she wouldn't have become so shallow and mean-spirited a person.

She was silently lamenting her failure as a sister while Charlotte searched through takeaway menus, having declared a sudden desire for sushi. The doorbell rang, and glancing at her watch, Jemma realised that it was 7.04pm. Her stomach gave a little lurch, and she got up and went to the door, while Charlotte, having located the menu in question was now loudly musing on whether she wanted sashimi or nigiri. When Jemma opened the door, her heart sank. She had been expecting it to be Fitz, but a guy she didn't know was standing on the door step, a good-looking guy, just a little taller than Fitz, with brown hair and a goatee beard. He looked distressed about something.

"Is Charlotte there?" he asked. He had a North London accent, not the usual type of guy Charlotte associated with, and Jemma wondered if this was maybe the assistant she had been moaning about for a month, and it was a work problem he needed to talk to her about.

"Sure, come on in," she smiled at him, even though she was disappointed that Fitz hadn't turned up yet. He stepped past her and stopped in the hall, as Jemma took a quick look up and down the street to see if she could see Fitz approaching. There was no sign of him.

"Charlotte!" she called, as she walked towards the living room. "There's someone here to see you." Charlotte padded out in the hall in her bare feet, glass in hand, frowning. When she saw who it was, all colour drained from her face, and she stood frozen to the spot, a perfect effigy of horror.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed viciously.

"Charlotte, I had to see you, I had no choice, you wouldn't answer any of my calls," the man said, sounding as if he was almost in tears.

"Go away, Lance! You had no business coming here, I told you last night during that weird phone call that I didn't want to see you again."

"Charlotte?" Jemma stared at her sister in confusion. "Who is this? What's going on?"

"He's no-one!" Charlotte snapped. "Just this loser who's been stalking me."

"Charlotte, that's not true," Lance whined. "Come one, babe, you and me have something special, you know it. I don't know why you're being like this all of a sudden."

"He’s lying, Jemma!” Charlotte cried. “There is nothing between us and never was!" she shouted, as she turned back to him. "Now please leave me alone, or...or I'll call the police, you psycho!"

Furious at her sister as she was, Jemma was not going to let some obsessed guy terrorise her, and so she placed herself protectively in front of Charlotte and glared at this Lance person, whoever he was.

"Charlotte, why are you saying this? I love you, why you are acting like this?" Lance cried desperately. "Look, look!" he shouted, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "If there was never anything between us, then what are all these texts I got from you? Look, see?" he said to Jemma, pushing the phone at her face. “You'll know, that's your sister's number, isn't it?" Charlotte shrieked and leapt forward trying to grab the phone, but Jemma seized it first, yanking it out of Lance's hand and away from Charlotte's reach as she studied it. That was indeed Charlotte's mobile number, above a series of positively filthy sexts. Charlotte scrabbled for the phone, screaming at Jemma now and pulling at her clothes and hair in an effort to get it. In a state of shock at her sister's unwarranted violence, Jemma let go of the phone and Charlotte threw it to the ground, stamping on it and smashing it to bits.

"CHARLOTTE!!" Jemma was stunned. Her sister had just destroyed this man's phone in order to hide the fact that she'd clearly been sexting him while she had a boyfriend. Jemma had noticed that the dates at the bottom of the texts had all been within recent weeks, the last one having been last Thursday night - the night before Charlotte had taken Jonathan home to meet her parents.

"So I was sexting him, so what?!" Charlotte screamed back at her. "That proves nothing. It was just a harmless bit of fun, that's all, there was nothing more to it, not like he's claiming."

"So what do you call this then?" Lance retorted, as he pulled a camcorder out of the inside pocket of his jacket. It was the same model as Fitz had, Jemma noted. She recalled that she had been waiting for Fitz to arrive before this soap opera started unfolding in her hall and she wondered with a start if this was exactly Fitz had meant when he wrote 'Answers' on the napkin he gave her. Lance was opening the screen of the camcorder now, and suddenly the image of him and Charlotte passionately snogging as they burst through a door was burned into Jemma's retina. And there was something familiar about that background...

Screaming again like some sort of possessed harpy, Charlotte lurched forward, wildly trying to clutch at the camera, which Lance was now holding away from her. Stepping in front of her to block her, Jemma put her hand on the middle of Charlotte's chest and pushed her back through the open door of the dining room just behind them, and pulled the door shut, holding the handle to keep her in, whilst Charlotte screamed hysterically in the other side and hammered on the door. "Give me the camera please," Jemma said firmly to Lance. He immediately passed it over to her, and took the door handle from Jemma's grasp, holding Charlotte at bay. Jemma stared at the image that he had paused on the screen. That looked for all the world like Fitz's flat. She rewound the video to the start and gasped when she saw one of her and Fitz's DWARFs - Grumpy, in fact - zooming around what was definitely Fitz's living room. She remembered that Grumpy had been malfunctioning a few weeks ago and Fitz had taken him home to work on him. He was supposed to record the test run for Jemma, but he had claimed the camera wasn't working. As she looked at the screen, she heard the amplified sound of a key scraping against a lock. Grumpy came to a sudden standstill, and then dropped heavily onto the sofa he was hovering above. The camera appeared to drop too, but slower as if it was being put down, onto the top of the TV, judging by the position, and then a figure ran past, and Jemma found herself watching Fitz's back running out of the living room, as the hall door, just opposite where the camera was, opened and Lance and Charlotte burst through.

Jemma lifted her head to stare at Lance, who was now watching her impassively. "That's Fitz, that's his flat. Why are you in Fitz's flat with my sister?" she asked in astonishment, before realisation suddenly dawned on her. "Is your surname...are you Hunter??" He nodded at her. "You're Fitz's flatmate! And you're sleeping with my sister?!" She was having trouble taking this all in.

Hunter nodded and smiled sheepishly at her. "Yeah. Sorry. I've been...a bit of a prat."

"Well, why didn't the bloòdy idiot just tell me?! Did he think I'd be annoyed? Why all the secrecy?!" Hunter gave the same eye flicker as Fitz had earlier in the coffee shop, this time at the dining room door, which Charlotte was still banging on. From what Jemma could make out from her muffled screeching, she appeared to be threatening all sorts of vague recriminations and Jemma remembered what Fitz had said in the coffee shop, about how there was something he knew that somebody didn’t want her to know, and that he was afraid that something bad would happen if he told her – something that would ruin everything they worked for. Then she remembered Charlotte talking earlier about how they would get their father to make sure that Fitz never worked for Shield. Jemma gasped as she turned to look at the door through which her sister was screaming and then back at Hunter’s face. “She threatened him, didn’t she? She told him she’d ruin things with Shield for him if he told me?” The commotion on the other side of the door came to an abrupt halt.

“I wouldn’t know,” Hunter replied, loud enough so Charlotte could hear him. “We haven’t spoken in…well, since me and Charlotte first met.” He sighed dramatically. “He hasn’t been very supportive of our relationship. He just doesn’t understand our love.”

“We’re not in a relationship, you absolute berk!” The muffled screaming resumed from inside the dining room. “We’re not in love, you stalker, get it through your head. I liked you better when you kept insulting me, I don’t know where all this is coming from. I would have broken it off ages ago if I knew you’d become obsessed with me. Do you honestly think that someone like me would ever be interested in a fucking bouncer, Lance? And I can’t believe you secretly filmed us, that is fucked up, you sick fuck. I’m calling the police on you. Now, LET. ME. OUT. OF. THIS. FUCKING. ROOM!”

Jemma nodded at Hunter, and he opened the door and stepped back. Charlotte came barrelling through, her face red and her hair askew. Jemma struggled to control the rage that was vibrating her entire body as she stood facing her sister, Fitz’s camcorder still in her hand. She glared at Charlotte, who stopped short at the sight of her.

“Jemma…Jemma, please give me the camera,” Charlotte commanded, attempting to keep her voice steady. “This nut job has been filming me without my permission, that camera is evidence…”

“Oh, shut up, Charlotte!” Jemma snapped. “You’re not going to the police, you’d never risk what happened with you and Hunter becoming public, not when you’ve clearly gone to such lengths to keep it quiet. And the video of the two of you was clearly taken accidentally – the beginning of it is Fitz filming one of our drones. He drops the camera and runs when you two come in.”

“Fitz filmed it?!” Charlotte’s face had gone from red to sheet white in an instant. “That bastard! He was trying to blackmail me, Jemma, he filmed that to use against me…”

“Oh, honestly, Charlotte!” Jemma cried in disgust. “Would you listen to yourself?! I just said that it is obvious from the video that you sucking Hunter’s face off was not what was intended to be filmed. And I find it very interesting that you would immediately jump to the conclusion that Fitz was trying to blackmail you…because that’s precisely what you did to him, isn’t it?”

Charlotte opened her mouth and closed it again. “I…I…never…how…how dare you!” she eventually stammered. “That is outrageous! I can’t believe you, Jemma. Why would you believe that devious little weasel over your own sister. He’s been feeding you lies about me, obviously. You know he can’t be trusted, you said yourself you thought he was trying to steal your research.”

Jemma felt Hunter snap his head round to stare at her and she coloured. How would she explain this without letting Charlotte know that Fitz was behind this sting, and that she had lied in order to lure Charlotte home and keep her there? “I only thought that because I thought he was keeping something from me, and he refused to tell me what it was,” she retorted. “But now I can see clearly what it was. And why he wouldn’t tell me. You’ve completely incriminated yourself, Charlotte, Fitz didn’t have to tell me anything. He’s never mentioned you to me,” she said. Jemma turned to Hunter. Ever since he’d given her the video camera, it had been apparent to her that his desperate unrequited love for Charlotte was an act designed to cover for the fact that he had been sent here by Fitz to show her the texts and the video. But in order to keep Charlotte from realising that Fitz had been behind this, they needed to maintain the ruse.

“Hunter, I’m very sorry. But clearly you and my sister had a very different understanding of your…liaison. She does not return your feelings, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. I’m going to keep this camera however, I’ll return it to Fitz when I’m done with it.” She was impressed by how convincingly heartbroken Hunter looked, as he nodded, and hung his head.

“I get it, I do,” he sniffed. _Was he crying?!_ “I think I always knew that she was too good for me anyway, and that she’d never want to be with a bloke like me.”

“Damn right I don’t,” Charlotte snapped at him, and Jemma had never come so close to physically slapping her sister. “The very idea is preposterous! Now fuck off, and never come anywhere near me or my house again, or I will personally see to it that your sad little life is completely ruined…”

“CHARLOTTE!” Jemma had absolutely lost her temper now. “If you make one more threat, against Hunter, against me, against Fitz, or anybody, so help me, I will make sure that Jonathan gets this video in his morning email. In fact, I’ll make sure that Daddy sees it too, and that he knows exactly what you’ve done.”

Charlotte appeared to be staggered as she stared back at Jemma. “So, I’m just going to go,” Hunter said, wiping his tears. “Don’t worry, Charlotte, I’ve got the message, you won’t be hearing from me again,’ he sniffed as he moved towards the door. He turned back just as he opened it. “It was very nice to finally meet you, Jemma. I’m just sorry about the…unpleasantness.”

Jemma turned to him. “I’m very sorry about your phone, Hunter. Please be assured that it will be replaced.” He smiled and nodded back at her before letting himself out. Jemma turned back to face her sister.

“Jemma. Give. Me. That. Camera,” Charlotte said in a dangerously quiet voice.

“Why, so you can destroy this as well? No, I don’t think so, Charlotte. This is Fitz’s camera and it was expensive for him. As was Hunter’s phone. They actually have to work for a living, you see, these gadgets are hard-earned, they don’t have wealthy fathers who can just buy them a new one. You see, this might be a complete shock to you, Charlotte, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. You can’t just do what you want and destroy other people’s stuff, shit over other people’s lives, ruin people’s careers, their future or relationships. All just so your boyfriend won’t find out that you’re cheating on him. But it’s not really Jonathan you’re worried about, is it? Because he’s only in it for the money as much as you are, isn’t he? No, it’s the public disgrace you’re worried about. Jonathan couldn’t publicly stay with someone who had been caught shagging a nightclub bouncer behind his back. And what if Daddy found out, how would he react to the idea of his little angel having it off with random members of the public while she’s bringing home heirs to billion pound fortunes? Well, that’s exactly what’s going to happen Charlotte, if you do anything – anything at all – to jeopardise Fitz’s career. I will ruin your life, and see how you like it then. I mean, how dare you?! The absolute nerve! Who the fuck do you think you are, you jumped up, spoilt, selfish, self-involved little…bitch! How dare you think that your sad, shallow social life, your sham relationship, your tawdry little fling – that any of that is more important than the career of a brilliant man! Or your sister’s career - or her happiness, for that matter. Not that I would expect you to understand what it would be like to have someone you actually care about in your life, no, that’s an alien concept to you.”

Charlotte looked absolutely stupefied by Jemma’s outburst. Jemma knew that no-one had ever spoken to her like that before, and that of all people, the last person she’d ever expected to berate her like this would be her older sister. But Jemma didn’t care. She was beyond furious and she had no qualms about letting her know. And she meant what she said. She would put Charlotte through public humiliation if she did anything to ruin the opportunity Fitz had with Shield. It would be for Charlotte’s own good as much as anything. Jemma couldn’t let her think she could get away with maliciously sabotaging someone’s career, just so she could avoid a little scandal of her own making. And it might even do wonders for Charlotte to be taken down a peg or two. Jemma walked over to where her handbag was sitting on the hall table and grabbed it.

“This camera stays with me, Charlotte. And I will not hesitate to send it to everyone you’ve ever known if any harm comes to Fitz whatsoever.”

“But…but…but I’m your sister!” Charlotte eventually blurted.

“Yeah, and you should have remembered that fact when you decided to blackmail someone that you knew I liked. You should have remembered that I am your sister when you decided that not only Fitz’s work, but mine also – the culmination of our life’s passion, by the way - could just be dispensed with in order for you to keep your rich boyfriend, and still shag random guys on the side. You should have remembered that I am your sister when you decided to interfere in my relationships. I feel betrayed by you, do you even understand that? So don’t expect any loyalty from me, Charlotte – I’ve never had even one tiny particle of it from you! I can’t even look at you right now, I am appalled at your behaviour. I need to get out of here.”

With that, Jemma turned round and stormed out of the house, camera in hand, slamming the door behind her. She ran to her car, opened the door and threw her bag in, before getting in herself and starting the car. She’d had a glass of wine, but she had taken two hours to drink it, so she figured she’d be okay to drive. She looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of Hunter. She wondered how he’d gotten here, if he’d come by Tube or by bus. She drove off down the street, keeping an eye open for him. She spotted him entering Highgate Underground Station, and beeped her horn. He jogged over to the car and bent down to the window. “Get in,” Jemma commanded, as she lowered the window. “I’m going to your flat anyway. And you can explain everything on the way.”


	10. A Heartwarming Brew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma finally talk about Charlotte's blackmail...and other things.

Fitz was pacing up and down in his living room. Hunter had texted him to let him know that their plan had worked even better than they hoped – Jemma had seen the video and put two and two together much quicker than Hunter had expected. Hunter going to the house was just supposed to be a way for Jemma to find out about Charlotte and Hunter – Fitz had been planning to tell her the rest himself. He wasn’t sure how she was going to take it. Also, he was nervous about the possible recriminations from Charlotte. He hadn’t counted on executing this part of the plan so soon, he had wanted to ensure that everything else was in place first. But then Jemma had confronted him in the coffee shop that day, and he knew that if he had any hope of salvaging his relationship with her, then he had to let her in on what had been happening. And he had to tell her the truth about his feelings. She hadn’t responded to that. She just looked astounded. He hadn’t expected her to respond, that’s not why he had told her, he just wanted her to understand that he had never wanted to lie to her. Also, it wasn’t the time or the place and Charlotte was there. He supposed that the subsequent information about Charlotte had also thrown a spanner in the works. But now he was anxious. If she didn’t feel the same way, what was going to happen with their project? Even if she had felt the same way, now that Jemma knew everything, how would she feel about him? Would she ever trust him again? He had been expecting some kind of communication from Jemma after Hunter’s text, but there had been nothing. Maybe she didn’t even want to talk to him.

He heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, and he hurried to the door, opening it to see if it was Hunter coming home. He found himself face to face with Jemma.

“Hunter’s gone to the pub,” she told him. “He thought he’d give us some space to talk. He gave me his keys, you may as well take them back.” She passed them to Fitz, who stood back to let her in the door in front of him. He studied her face – she didn’t look happy, but whether that was because of him or Charlotte or both, he wasn’t sure. She pushed past him into the flat, and turned around to face him as he closed the door. “So Hunter told me everything on the way here,” she began. “I have to say, Fitz, it’s pretty strange to hear that your sister’s been threatening your best friend from a guy that you’ve just met.”

“I’m sorry, Jemma,” Fitz replied, deflating. “I really wanted to tell you myself. That was the plan, it really was. Hunter coming to your house…that was just a way for you to find out about him and your sister, without me telling you, so that Charlotte couldn’t use it as an excuse to fuck things up with Shield. Hunter wasn’t supposed to tell you the rest.”

“Well, it’s not his fault, I figured it out, and made him fill in the blanks. After I left the coffee shop today, Charlotte came after me, and I had to give her a reason for the fight, so I told her I thought you were trying to steal my research. And she said we should call my dad and ask him to contact Shield and make sure that they didn’t hire you. And she came up with it so quick…” Jemma stopped, clearly upset now. “I can’t believe that she’s actually capable of this, I can’t believe she’d be that vindictive. And I can’t believe that you didn’t tell me!” she added, looking him directly in the face.

“I’m sorry, Jemma, you’ve no idea how sorry I am. Like I tried to say in the coffee shop, I was afraid. Shield is everything I’ve ever worked for, and she would have ruined it for you too, she would have ruined our project, and I just didn’t want to take that risk. Also…I mean, she’s your sister. Would you have believed me if I told you that she’d threatened me? You’ve only known me a month.”

“I may have only known you a month, Fitz, but I’m already closer to you than I’ve ever been to Charlotte my whole life!” she cried. “She and I have never understood each other. But you I would trust with my life. Of course I would have believed you. I know you, I know you wouldn’t make something like that up. And as it turned out, I had no problem believing my sister would do something like that. I never would have dreamed she’d be up to something like blackmail, but the minute Hunter showed me that video, and the way she was screaming like a mad woman, and what she’d said to me earlier about talking to my dad about you, and the way both you and Hunter seemed to be trying to tell me something about her…I just knew, I just knew that’s exactly what she had done, and…I can’t believe it…” Jemma flopped down onto the sofa and began to cry.

Fitz moved gingerly towards her and perched next to her, placing his hand on her back and gently rubbing it up and down, trying to soothe her. The next thing he knew she had collapsed into him and he wrapped his arms tight around her as she sobbed into his chest.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she choked out. “It was you she threatened, not me. But…it’s just so horrible! The idea of your little sister treating the person you…treating your friend that way, trying to ruin your…your…what you’ve been working for…” Her words dissolved into hiccups, and Fitz gently rocked her, his mind dully circling the word ‘friend’. ‘ _The idea of your little sister treating your friend that way_ ’.

He felt awkward now about his confession in the coffee shop. Clearly his keeping what had happened with Charlotte a secret had ruined any chance there had been for him and Jemma to be something more. Well, she knew now how he felt, and he knew that she didn’t feel the same way, not any more at least, and so all he could do now was to be there for her as a lab partner and a friend. He stroked her hair and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. Her sobs began to subside and eventually lapsed into silence. She lay there for a minute in his arms. Then she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes red-rimmed and shining like burnished copper under clear running water.

“You’re comforting me, and I’m the one who…I should be apologising to you, the way my sister treated you,” she gurgled at him.

“No, no, no, Jemma,” he shook his head emphatically as he gathered her back into his arms. “You’ve nothing to apologise for. I’m the one who should be apologising. I should have had the courage to let you know about all of this earlier. I should have had the courage to stand up to Charlotte.”

She pulled back from his embrace slightly to study his face. “You should have told me. It was my responsibility to deal with Charlotte. I just don’t like that you had to carry this all by yourself. We should have been dealing with it together.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said with a little smile. “We’ll fix this together.”

She flung herself back into his arms then, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he pulled her in tighter to himself, shutting his eyes so he could just enjoy the feel of her pressed against him, and the scent of her hair in his nostrils. He ran his hand over her back. “Hey, what about a cup of tea?” he asked softly.

“Oh, Fitz, that would be wonderful,” she mumbled against his shoulder.

She broke away from him to let him get up, and he squeezed her shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen. He filled the kettle with fresh water, and put it on to boil, before lifting the teapot off a shelf and giving it a quick rinse under the tap. As the kettle boiled, he poured some of the still bubbling water into the pot, swirling it round in order to heat the teapot. He poured it down the sink, added four teaspoons of tea leaves to the pot, enough for two cups each, and measured four cups of boiling water into the pot. He gave it a quick stir, before putting the lid back on the pot, and covering it with one of his mum’s handmade cosies. He got the tray from the cupboard, and started putting the tea things onto it. Hunter had laughed at him for buying a tea set and making tea in a pot, instead of stirring a tea bag around a mug the way most people did, but the importance placed on the correct preparation of tea and all the trappings of a proper tea set had been ingrained in Fitz. His mother had always considered tea a sacred ritual designed to bring succour and simple pleasure in to one’s day. Linda Fitz had grown up on a council estate in Glasgow and though her upbringing had been hard, her mother had always insisted on maintaining respectability and proper etiquette. Her favourite thing as a child had been when the neighbours called round and her mother would take out her best china and serve tea at the table. This simple ritual had become her life’s passion, and she had built a business on trying to recreate that sense of luxury and contentment. It was interesting to Fitz that he had fallen for a woman who shared this delight in the humble cuppa, and it pleased him no end now that he could help bring her some comfort with a process that was so familiar to him.

He carried the tray back in to Jemma, and sat it on the coffee table, placing the tea strainer over her cup and pouring the tea into it. Jemma scooted forward on the couch and smiled as she reached for the milk jug, adding just a drop to her cup. Fitz watched her as she lifted the cup with two hands and cradled it, closing her eyes and inhaling the scent before she took a sip. She smacked her lips together appreciatively and gave a sigh of satisfaction.

“Oh god, that’s good for the soul,” she murmured. “You make the best tea, Fitz. Apart from your mum, of course.” He grinned broadly at that and set about pouring his own tea. Jemma took another sip, and placed the cup back on the saucer, sniffing as she returned to her usual more business-like fashion. “So, was making tea how we were going to fix this mess with Charlotte? Not that I don’t believe it could, even my monstrous sister couldn’t fail to be affected by your tea-making skills. But I wondered if you had a more practical strategy in mind?”

“I had a plan,” he said. “Hunter’s performance - that was actually supposed to be the last thing on the list. I wanted to get everything else in place first, to make sure we were secure.”

“She’s not going to do anything now. She knows I have the video. I told her I’d send it to Jonathan and our dad if she tried anything. She’s too afraid of that getting out.”

“You…you did?!” Fitz’s mouth dropped open. “You mean…you blackmailed _her?!_ That is…wow! Okay, so remind me not to mess with you…ever!” The idea of sweet, gentle Jemma holding Charlotte to ransom with the video of her and Hunter was doing all sorts of things to him, none of which felt appropriate in this moment. He took a drink of his tea and tried to snap back into the present concern. “You don’t think she’ll threatened enough by that to try and do something? Or maybe call your bluff? It’s just…I’ve met your dad and I’ve seen him interact with both of you. And he loves you both but…”

“But what?” Jemma put her tea down, giving him a wary look.

“It’s just…your dad strikes me as the kind of man who prides himself on being able to look after his family, give them anything they want. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Jemma nodded in agreement. “That’s very important to him. His dad died when he was young, and so he feels a great need to be the provider, to be the dad he never had, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Fitz replied, “because I grew up without a dad as well.”

“Oh, Fitz, I’m sorry,” Jemma winced, dropping her head. “I spoke without thinking there.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he reassured her. “I’m just trying to say that I think I understand your dad. The thing is, Jemma, you scare him.”

She lifted her head in surprise at that, and stared at him. He nodded at her. “You do. You’re so independent, you’re insisting on following your own path, making your own decisions, and he’s worried about your future, worried about what you’re going to do if you won’t let him look after you. He wants to control you a little bit – I think that’s why he offered to help set us up in our own company, and why he offered me the job in Biosim.”

“He what?! You never told me that!”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll get to that in a minute. The point is that Charlotte is completely and utterly dependent on your dad, and I think he loves that, because he knows she’s taken care of. That’s why he treats you both so differently. He tries to respect your wishes and give you your space, but he wants to pull strings behind your back to make sure that you’re going to be alright. Whereas Charlotte’s his little princess, and he tries to acquiesce to her every whim, no matter how unreasonable, just to keep her happy. I noticed that he has a way of getting around her demands though, without actually turning them down.”

“Fitz, what are you trying to say?” Jemma was frowning at him over the top of the tea cup that she had just lifted again.

He took a deep breath. “I think it would be very easy for Charlotte to persuade your dad that this contract with Shield is not in your best interests, or that your partnership with me is not in your best interests. That’s why I was so afraid of her threats, I could actually see her pulling it off. I’ve learned not to underestimate your sister, Jemma. She desperately wants to be married to Jonathan, she will do anything to avoid her affair with Hunter getting out. She also hates me because she sees me as some sort of threat to her family’s reputation. She doesn’t want her sister making robots with some tea lady’s son from Glasgow.”

“Your mother’s an entrepreneur, not a tea lady!” Jemma exclaimed in a charmingly indignant tone, before taking a sip of her tea.

“Yeah, I know that, and you know that, but I’m just talking about how Charlotte sees it,” he explained patiently. “Your sister wants a rich husband, and she thinks she’ll have more chance of getting one if you have one as well, basically. Right now, she thinks you’re a laughing stock in society circles, partly because of me, partly because…well, you’re just fucking weird really,” he said with a grin, and was pleased when she rewarded him with one of her musical peals of laughter. “But seriously,” he continued, “even without what I know about her and Hunter, I think Charlotte would want me out of the picture. And we’ve backed her into a corner now, and I’m just a little afraid of her lashing out.”

Jemma considered this very carefully and he resisted the urge to run his thumb over the little crease in her forehead to straighten out her adorable frown. Eventually she cocked her head to one side and looked at him, tea cup in hand. “So what do you think we should do? What was the plan that got interrupted by me storming into the coffee shop in a tizzy today?” she grinned wryly at him.

“First of all, Hunter and I need rent money for the next two months,” he replied, sipping his tea. “I need to keep my job in the coffee shop and Hunter needs a new job – did he tell you he got fired?”

“He did. And he also told me that Charlotte threatened to get you fired as well.”

“Yes. And she could, all she’d have to do is say the word to my manager, Graham. He’s so starry-eyed over the fact that George Simmons’ daughter drinks in his café, he’ll do anything to keep her custom. But…”

“…I’m George Simmons’ daughter too!” Jemma exclaimed, clearly seeing where he was going with this.

“Precisely!” Fitz agreed. “And if you were to strike up a conversation with Graham, perhaps mention that I am your lab partner and very good close personal friend…”

“Well, he couldn’t fire you on the request of one sister, if he thinks it’s going to upset the other!”

“No, indeed, that would put Graham in quite the dilemma! Also, if you were to mention in passing that another good friend of yours, an ex-SAS soldier, a war hero really, needed a job for a couple of months…”

“If it’s only for a couple of months, he probably couldn’t see why he shouldn’t give Hunter a job in order to keep me happy!”

“Exactly! There’s also the added benefit that Charlotte’s secret lover would be working in her favourite coffee shop…”

“Oh, she won’t like that at all! Not now she thinks he’s obsessed with her! She won’t want to drink there, she’d be too afraid he’d do something which might reveal their tryst.”

“Did she really freak out when he declared his love?” he asked excitedly.

“Oh my god, I thought she was going to have a fit!” Jemma giggled. “You should have seen him, he played it perfectly, I was absolutely convinced he was some lovelorn admirer to begin with. If Hunter ever wanted to change careers, I really think he’d make it as an actor. He’s certainly good-looking enough. You know he started crying?!”

She was laughing gleefully now, and Fitz tried to join in, despite the fact that his insides felt like someone had smashed a bowling ball into them. Jemma sounded enamoured of his best friend. Well, Charlotte had informed him that Hunter was much more Jemma’s type than he was. And Hunter was handsome and funny and likeable. He definitely had a way with women. He shouldn’t have been surprised really. He was suddenly regretting his idea to send Hunter to Jemma’s house.

“So?” Jemma nudged him. “You said that was the first part. What’s the rest of the plan?” “Oh. Oh, yeah, well…” He tried to rally himself, and force himself to focus on the topic at hand. This was what it was going to be like now, being Jemma’s best friend. There was no chance of anything happening between her and Hunter, he knew that Hunter would never do that to him, but he had no doubt that there would be many other handsome men lining up to take their chances with her. He needed to get used to it.

He shook his head and pushed his tea away from him. “Yeah, the next part of the plan is a little more uncertain. It depends on a lot of factors. Well, no, it depends on two factors really. Your dad and Phil Coulson.”

Jemma stared at him in confusion, putting her cup down and giving him her full attention.

“I thought that maybe our only chance of eliminating the possibility of Charlotte persuading your dad to throw a spanner in the Shield deal, was to try and get your dad actually invested in the two of us getting a contract with Shield.”

Jemma’s face registered astonishment. “How would we do that exactly?”

“I told you he offered me a job. At the party. He said that Biosim are trying to expand their tech division, that the medical profession is becoming more automated these days. And that got me thinking about something you said one day in the lab. When we were talking about designing the Doc D.W.A.R.F., to examine and analyse corpses and run up a preliminary assessment at crime scenes…you said that something like that could be adapted to be used in hospitals. Remember?”

“Yes!” Jemma said excitedly. “I said that nurses in particular, so much of their time is taken up with having to take regular stats of patients, and having an adaptation of Doc that could do that for them would free them up for other more essential tasks. It would cut down on lab time as well, if the drone could analyse results there and then.”

“Yeah,” Fitz nodded slowly. “So what I was thinking was…what if we got the contract with Shield and we were able to persuade Phil Coulson to make a deal with Biosim, to let Biosim develop the technology to make such a device. With our help of course.”

“So if we approached my dad about it first, told him that if we get the jobs with Shield, it will allow us to develop the D.W.A.R.Fs and then he can approach Shield…yes, Fitz, this is brilliant! If my dad likes the idea, then we’ll have his support for the work with Shield! It’ll be much harder for Charlotte to convince him otherwise. It’s just a matter of convincing my dad first though,” she mused.

“Which is why I’ve invited him to come for a demonstration next week,” Fitz went on.

“You did?”

“Yeah, I was going to tell you about it tomorrow, in the lab,” he explained. “I didn’t tell you yesterday because…well, I needed time to figure out how I was going to explain it to you. And I realised, it’s not just a way to counter Charlotte’s scheme, but it also means that your parents will be much happier about you going to New York, so it’s a win-win really.”

“Fitz, that’s amazing!” Jemma’s eyes shone in a way that he wished he could make happen all the time. “You’re brilliant!”

He smiled awkwardly, blushing and dipping his head as he scratched his neck. “We’ll have to do the demonstration in your house,” he continued, in an effort to change the subject before he got swept away in a wave of Jemma’s admiration. “We’re not going to be able to do it in the lab. Is that okay? Oh, and your mum might be coming as well. I invited her too. I thought it was time that she actually saw what you can do.”

Jemma stared at him dumbfounded. She almost looked as if she was going to cry again, and he panicked that he had upset her by going behind her back. Then she shook her head and smiled warmly. “Fitz…I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe all this, my parents have never really shown much of an interest in my work before. And you’ve got them coming to see it. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.” She bit her lip as she gazed at him.

He smiled at her, and ducked his head again, embarrassed. He didn’t know what to say now. He was delighted beyond reason that he’d made her happy. He started when she reached out and placed her hand over his own, and began stroking her thumb over his knuckles. He found himself staring at her hand.

“I realise that we haven’t talked about what you said to me in the coffee shop today,” she said, after a moment. He raised his head in shock to look at her. “I thought maybe we could discuss it now?” she said gently. The bowling ball slammed into his gut again. He didn’t want to hear this. She was going to let him down gently and he had been so happy a minute ago. Her response to his plan had thrilled him and he didn’t want to spoil the moment. He shook his head and pulled his hand back from hers.

“There’s nothing to discuss, Jemma,” he said, getting up from the couch. She quickly grabbed his hand to stop him. She had the same teary expression in her eyes as when he’d told her about her mum coming to see her work, but it was tinged with something else…fear? Hopefulness? Or both?

“Maybe there is,” she whispered, her voice breaking into a sob at the end.

He gaped at her as he tried to process her words in his head. Was she saying what he thought she was? That she felt the same way he did? He moved towards her… only to be halted by a loud knock on the door. He looked desperately between Jemma and the door, unsure of what to do, and when the knock came again, it was quickly followed by Hunter’s voice.

“Fitz! Can you let me in, mate? I gave my keys to Jemma. Are you two…oh, god, you’re not having sex or anything, are you?”

Fitz sprang to the door in mortification, whilst Jemma burst into a fit of almost hysterical giggles, which sounded to Fitz as if they were a nervous reaction as much as genuine amusement. Fitz pulled the door open to face Hunter.

“No, we’re not,” he hissed. “But your timing could not have been worse,” he muttered into Hunter’s ear as he walked past.

Hunter grimaced in embarrassment. “Sorry!” he called, ducking his head in apology at Jemma. “I’m just going into my room now, so I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, it’s fine, Hunter, please stay,” Jemma said, as she stood up awkwardly. She was clearly embarrassed, and Fitz mentally cursed his flatmate for his inopportune arrival. “I suppose I’d better be going home anyway…oh.” She stopped suddenly and both Fitz and Hunter stared at her, waiting for her to continue. “I just remembered that I don’t want to go home,” she said, looking up at them. “Not if Charlotte’s there, I really don’t want to face her right now.”

“That’s alright, you can stay here, can’t she, Fitz?” Hunter replied, giving Fitz a meaningful look.

“If you want to, Jemma, of course you can,” Fitz responded. “You can stay tonight if you like. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

Hunter rolled his eyes and raised his brows in exasperation at Fitz, who responded with a questioning shrug.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t put you out of your bed, Fitz,” Jemma replied. “I have no problem staying on the couch, really, I don’t mind if neither of you mind me being here.”

Fitz opened his mouth to speak, but Hunter jumped in first. “Why don’t we figure out the sleeping arrangements later on, eh? In the meantime, I’m starving so I’m just going to grab something to eat and then there’s a match that I want to watch in my room.”

“Well, why don’t I make you both something, to thank you for putting me up?” Jemma asked.

“Jemma, it’s nearly nine o’clock at night,” Fitz replied. “And to be honest, I don’t even know what we have in. I’ll tell you what, I’ll order us all a takeaway. Does Chinese food sound good to everyone?”

Jemma nodded happily, and Hunter moved towards the hall, gesturing at Fitz to follow. “Yeah, I’ll tell you what, the menu is in my room, come with me and I’ll get it for you," he said.

“Ohh….kaay,” Fitz replied uncertainly, giving him a confused look as he followed him down the hall and into his room. Hunter quickly shut the door behind Fitz, almost pinning him against the door.

“Right, what did I interrupt? What happened?” Hunter asked eagerly.

“Nothing, that was the whole point,” Fitz replied tersely. “She told me she wanted to discuss what I said to her in the coffee shop today, you know, about her being more than a friend, and I said there was nothing to discuss, and she grabbed my hand and said, ‘ _Maybe there is_ ’…which could mean anything, I suppose, but the way she said it…”

“Why did you say there was nothing to discuss?!” Hunter whispered exasperatedly.

“I don’t know,” Fitz sighed. “I just thought…after everything that happened, I thought that she wouldn’t be interested, not after I’d kept all that from her, and then…I don’t know…I thought maybe…she seemed…”

“She seemed what?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t know, I thought maybe she was into you,” he replied sheepishly.

Hunter stared at him like he had just spouted two heads. “ _What the actual fuck, Fitz?!_ What bollocks is that?! Why would you think she was into me, she’s just met me! And she’s already in love with you, you pillock!”

“Yeah, well, as you say, you’ve only just met her, how the hell would you know that?” Fitz responded sarcastically.

“Because she told me so in the car on the way over!”

“ _What?!_ ” Fitz felt time slow down and the universe come to a crashing halt around him.

“Yes, you idiot! I don’t think she meant to, it kind of slipped out, she was venting about the whole thing with Charlotte, and she said, ‘ _The first time in my life I actually fall in love, and have a real connection with someone and then I find out that he’s too scared to make a move because my sister has threatened and blackmailed him._ ’

“ _She said that?!_ ”

“Yes!! Now, go out there and do something about it!”

“Yes, yes, I will.” Shock had turned to panic. “What do I do?!”

“Kiss her, you moron! Tell her you’re in love with her too! Whatever, just do something! I know! Take her out now. On a date. A proper date. You know, that has sex at the end.”

“Okay. Right. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go now. Okay.”

“Fitz?”

“Yes?”

“You know you actually have to open the door and go out there first?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded dumbly, and turned round and opened the door. The walk down the hall into the living room was a blur to him, his only memory of it was his heart hammering in his chest the whole time. Jemma was standing in the living room, looking a little uncertain, and it occurred to Fitz that they had just kind of abandoned her there.

“Did you find it?” she asked.

“Um…find what?”

“The takeaway menu.”

“Oh god! Oh, yeah, right. Um, no, we couldn’t find it. Hunter’s looking for it. B-but…um…I was wondering…about…if you wanted…”

“Yes?” She was looking at him curiously now.

“Um…dinner?”

“Well…yes…I mean…I thought that’s what we were doing? Ordering Chinese food?”

“No, no, I meant you and me. Maybe we could go someplace else. Somewhere nice.”

Jemma stared at him uncomprehendingly for a minute, before she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh!”

Fitz smiled weakly at her, willing his legs not to buckle under him.

“You mean…on a date?” she continued.

“Yes.” He swallowed.

“No.”

Fitz wondered how it was possible to be still standing upright when everything inside you had died.

“Oh. Okay. Yeah.”

“I don’t want to go out to dinner, Fitz. We’ve been out to dinner dozens of times in the past month, and they’ve all been lovely, and each time I got my hopes and nothing has ever come of it, and I don’t want to wait anymore. No more making arrangements, no more putting things off, no more letting other people and other things come between us. We’re both here now, and Hunter is clearly hiding in his room while you ask me out, so will you just please come over here and _show me_ how you feel?”

Before his brain had even registered what he was doing, he had somehow moved across the room and was cupping her face in his hands, his lips pressed softly against hers, parting slightly at the contact. He felt her hands rest lightly on either side of his neck, her thumbs stroking up and down as their mouths gently bonded, slowly moving together and pulling apart, opening and closing, capturing and yielding, separating and coming easily together again, all in perfect synchronicity. Jolts of electricity were running along every nerve in his body, and his blood seared his skin. An involuntary hum escaped his mouth, and Jemma responded by tightening the grip on his neck, pulling him in tighter, and darting her tongue delicately into his mouth. As he met it with his own she gave a little moan, and his hands slipped from her jaw and slid down her back to pull her in closer until she was pressed flush against him. She wrapped her own arms right around his neck, fusing their bodies together. His breathing was coming fast and loud through his nostrils, and one of his hands moved back up into Jemma’s hair, threading through her loose curls. In turn, one of hers gripped the back of his head, and they moaned simultaneously as their mouths locked even tighter together, their tongues curled around each other. The heat in his lower belly was building to an inferno, as his hand grasped wildly up and down her back, and his groin responded with a painful eagerness. He moaned again, and slid both his hands back to cup her face, as he broke away from her, gasping for air. He pulled his hips back from her body, in a vain attempt to hide the aching bulge in his trousers. The sight of her chest heaving, her pupils dilated and her lips swollen and moist threatened to overwhelm him, and he leaned his forehead against hers to steady himself.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he heard himself breathe.

“Me too,” she whispered, her eyes alight with some new fire he’d never seen before. She grabbed the front of his shirt and stepped backwards pulling him with her as she moved. He grabbed her waist and pulled her back towards him, kissing her hard. She responded enthusiastically, before tearing her mouth away again, biting her lip in an unbearably sexy way as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the down the hall towards his bedroom. She stopped in the middle of the room, and he kicked the door shut behind him, moving towards her and pressing his mouth and his body over hers once again, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. From down the hall, he was vaguely aware of Hunter’s muffled shout:

_“So it’s just me for food then?”_


	11. Miss Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz wake up together in bed, but their blissful morning is ruined by the news that Charlotte is out for revenge and has taken matters a step too far. Jemma has two emotional phone conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this update has been so long in coming. I've been away for the last few weeks, and have been without internet for the last two weeks. But I'm back now, so the last few chapters will be posted on a twice-weekly basis, as before.

Sunlight crept under Jemma's heavy eyelids, heaving them open despite her tiredness. She was immediately aware of being cocooned in something warm and safe with a familiar scent that awakened all sorts of feelings before she had even registered where she was. Fitz. She was wrapped up in Fitz. More specifically, his naked body was wrapped around hers. Lifting her head from where it rested in the crook of his neck, she gazed softly at his sleeping face, the little crease in his forehead, his mouth slightly open, his breathing deep and even. She smiled to herself and snuggled back down against his neck, relishing the touch of his skin against hers. Warmth flooded her body as memories of the things they had done last night began to stir in her brain, sending ghostly trickles of sensation running over her skin, the psychic imprints of where his mouth and hands - and other parts - had been. She let out a little noise, somewhere between and purr and a moan, as desire once again shuddered through her mostly still sleeping body, and she stretched luxuriously in an attempt to release the pent-up energy. Fitz stirred at the sound and the movement, smacking his lips and murmuring unintelligibly as he rolled on his side towards her, running his hand from the underside of her breast down over her hip to her thigh and back again, even with his eyes still closed. Her face now buried in his neck, she felt an ache between her legs again in response to his touch, and she pressed her lips against the skin under his ear, as she ran her hand up and down his back. She grinned as she felt his reaction pressed up against her belly, and she lifted her head to look up at the bright blue eyes gazing back at her. He smiled sleepily, and she felt her heart flutter. "Hi," he whispered. He tilted his head to rest his forehead against hers and continued to stroke his hand up and down her curves.

"Good morning," she breathed, struggling to contain the tension that the path of his hand was building in her lower belly.

"The best morning," he returned, beaming at her. She smiled back at him, before lowering her head back into the crook of his neck and nuzzling him. His hand swept over the curve of her arse, lightly squeezing her buttock, before his fingers trailed along the underside of her thigh and then back up the front. Jemma's stomach tightened in response and she began laying light kisses over his pulse point while her own hand began to trace a path down Fitz's chest, down towards where his hardness was pressed against her, whilst his hand now cupped her...

"Guys?" Hunter's voice came through the door after the hesitant knock that had stopped both their hands in their tracks.

Fitz swore. "What??" he snapped at the door.

"Sorry." They could hear the cringe in Hunter's voice. "I don't mean to interrupt, only, Jemma, your phone's ringing. It's the third time it's rung this morning, so I thought it might be important? Also...seriously, guys? Again?!"

"Never you mind! I had to listen to your…well, you know what, enough times," Fitz shouted back.

"I'd better get this, Fitz," Jemma said reluctantly, as she peeled herself off him. "Three calls in one morning, if it's the same person, it could be important." Fitz sighed, and Jemma kissed his chest as she pushed herself up off the bed. "There's no reason why we can't continue this when I come back," she whispered lasciviously. His hand slid up to grab her arse again.

"Then get rid of whoever it is, and hurry back," he whispered in response. She giggled and climbed out the bed, pulling on her clothes as he propped himself up on the bed to watch her. She smiled and bit her lip as she saw the way his eyes followed her every movement, before flickering back to hers and holding her gaze intently. The way he was looking at her was leaving her quite breathless, and she resisted the urge to kiss him again, knowing the quickest way to get back into bed with him was to go and deal with these calls before he could grab her again.

She avoided his gaze as she slipped out of the room, past Hunter's apologetic grimace in the hallway, and into the living room where her bag sat on the sofa, right where she'd left it yesterday when she arrived. She delved into it, retrieving her phone, and her heart thudded to a halt when she saw the call list. Her father had called three times, and texted, asking her to ring him. Panicking now, she hit the call button.

"Dad?"

"Jemma. At last." He sounded displeased.

"Dad, is everything alright?"

"No, it's not, Jemma. Not at all. I spoke to your sister last night, she was very upset.”

Oh god. Oh god. Charlotte had gone to their father. _What the hell had she said??!_ Jemma’s panic intensified, and she lowered herself to sit on the sofa.

“She told me some very disturbing things that have been going on, horrifying things, in fact,” her father continued, “and I'm not sure I can make head nor tail of them, Jemma, not unless you can give me some kind of explanation. It surely cannot be the case that some friend of Fitz's took advantage of your sister while she was intoxicated and that Fitz filmed it, and that you and Fitz are now using this footage to blackmail your sister?!"

" _What??!!_ "

Jemma’s reaction was practically a scream. She was pretty sure her body had gone into shock. She gripped the arm of the sofa, feeling the bile rise in the back of her throat. This could not be happening. Surely her little sister could not stoop this low?! She had been horrified by Charlotte’s behaviour yesterday but this...this was just...evil. Her sister was evil, there was no other word for it. Her whole body shook as she struggled to control her voice.

"She said that?!” she replied shakily. “She actually said that Hunter…that we…oh my god, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Jemma?” her father asked uncertainly. “What is going on?”

“That…that…that... is the biggest pile of _horseshit_ I have ever heard," she spat out bitterly. George went quiet on the other end. Jemma had never used this tone or language to her father before, and she was vaguely aware that she had shocked him but she didn't care. "It is the most _outrageous, malicious, vindictive, evil_ pack of lies ever. She's accusing Hunter of _rape_ now, is that it??"

"No, no, no, well, she didn't say that exactly..." Her father sounded deeply uncomfortable now on the other end of the phone, and it occurred to Jemma that he had reacted to Charlotte’s phone call in an emotional way without stopping to really think through the implications of what she was saying.

"Well, she would need to be very, very careful what she says then,” Jemma snapped. “Because that's what it sounds like. And believe me when I tell you that nothing could be further from the truth. She's defaming a man's character for no reason other than to make herself look better. In fact, she's defaming two men's characters. And her own sister's. Tell me, why are Fitz and I trying to blackmail her exactly?" Jemma continued. "Did she explain that part? I mean, what exactly is this Machiavellian plan of ours in aid of?"

"Well," George was somewhat flustered now. "That part wasn't very clear. Something about how she tried to warn you that Fitz was using you for your research and for our money as well, and you were angry at her and wouldn't listen. She says...she thinks..."

"She thinks what, Dad? What did she say?"

"She says that you're...well, that you're enamoured of him and that you will do anything to please him, which is why you've gone along with this..." Jemma could tell her father had completely lost confidence in this story by now.

"Does that sound like something I would do? I mean, does that sound right to you, Dad?" she asked. She knew her tone was cold and hard now, but she didn't care, she was too angry - not just at Charlotte, but also at her father for even slightly buying into any of this nonsense.

"No, well, that's why I thought it was strange...." George's voice faltered.

"You thought it was strange, did you?" She could hear her voice rising to a high pitch now. “Well, that's something at least. I'm glad you thought the idea of me exploiting my sister and blackmailing her just to please some bloke was _strange_ , Dad. I mean, it's gratifying that you at least thought such behaviour was out of character for me, even if you did call me to ask if it was true, rather than dismissing the idea out of hand for the absolute fucking bullshit it is. I'll tell you what I find strange. I think it's strange that you would believe for one second that I could be capable of such cruelty. I find it strange that you would prefer to believe that I could be part of such an evil scheme than to entertain the notion that your precious little princess could be feeding you a pack of lies. What could possibly make you believe that I could be a part of something that horrible?” Jemma was unable to keep the tears out of her voice now.

“I…I…I…” George Simmons was lost for words.

“I have never done anything even remotely like this, Dad,” Jemma went on. “I have never been in trouble, I have always done what’s expected of me. I worked hard, I devoted myself to my studies at the expense of any kind of social life, and I have achieved a lot for someone my age. Charlotte, on the other hand, has been given everything she has ever wanted her entire life. She's never had to work for anything, you have indulged her every whim. And as a result, she doesn't know to deal with any sort of obstacle in her path other than to lie and plot and scheme. She thinks she can do whatever she wants, she thinks that she's the centre of the universe and that other people's lives don't matter, and she can shit all over them if it suits her. She's out of control, Dad, and it's your fault, yours and Mum's, the two of you made her this way.” Jemma paused and tried to calm her rapid breathing and heaving chest as she waited for a reaction on the other end of the phone. None came.

“You want to know the truth?” she continued, suddenly feeling a flare of anger at the idea that her father might think Jemma’s outburst unfair. “The truth is that Charlotte cheated on Jonathan with Fitz's flatmate – an SAS veteran, by the way, who has been dealing with the break-up of his marriage and his ex-wife marrying someone else, before you go thinking that he’s the bad guy here. And if he took advantage of her, then you should know that he's been taking advantage of her several times a week for the past month, Dad." Her father sucked in a breath. “So ask her how she explains that one, unless maybe she has a chronic drink problem we don’t know about. I wouldn’t put it past her to use that excuse at this stage,” Jemma muttered bitterly. He heard her father sigh heavily.

"And Fitz...Fitz, whom you met and liked, Dad," she continued remorselessly, "and yet somehow now believe to be some master extortionist, filming vulnerable women being taken advantage of – Fitz didn’t blackmail anyone. _She_ blackmailed _him_ , Dad. She warned him that if he told anyone about her and Hunter, including me, she'd have him fired and she'd get you to throw a spanner in the works of his contract with Shield. My contract as well, by the way. A contract that Fitz and I have worked hard for. And the video she mentioned, that was taken accidentally when Fitz was filming something else. All the video shows is them kissing - I can show it to you if you like. It's in my possession now. And yes, I told Charlotte that if she did anything to sabotage Fitz's career just to save her own embarrassment, then I'd make sure that you and Jonathan saw that video. Because this is the kind of level I had to stoop to in order to protect my friend and my career from her malevolent, petty, spiteful little threats. So she panicked and she called you and she spun you this absolutely sick web of lies in order to cover herself, and that's who she is, Dad, that's the kind of person your little angel is, and I'm sick of standing by while everyone in this family just puts up with her behaviour. I'm sick of apologising for her and explaining her to people, and placating and appeasing her and making sure she's happy. And I'm sick of everyone in this family acting like she's the blue-eyed girl, and I'm the disappointment, when I'm the one who has actually worked hard and achieved something all on my own. I'm a doctor of biochemistry, twice over now, I'm a widely respected scientist, and I would just be very grateful if I could get some respect from my own family, instead of being treated like I'm the black fucking sheep!"

Jemma caught her breath. Her father might never speak to her again after saying all this, but she didn't care, this was stuff she should have said years ago. He needed to hear it, and more importantly, she needed to say it.

"There is one thing Charlotte wasn't lying about," she said in a quieter, calmer tone. "I do have feelings for Fitz. And Charlotte threatened him. She slandered him, she tried to sabotage his career, and she tried to come between us. And I will not stand for that. I will not let her get away with trying to hurt someone I love. So you can decide who you want to believe, Dad. But if you let Charlotte get away with this - even if I don't get the job with Shield, I will get a high-paying job somewhere else and I will start paying you back for my education - but I will not come home again." She ended the call and threw her phone down on the sofa, before bursting into tears.

"Jemma."

She whipped around to see Fitz standing there. He moved towards her and took her up in his arms and she sank into him as she wept.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he stroked her hair. "I was going to the bathroom, and your voice was raised and I came to see if everything was alright - I didn't mean to eavesdrop. What exactly happened? What did Charlotte tell your dad?"

"You don't want to know," Jemma sobbed. "Awful, horrible, evil stuff. I don’t even want to tell you, I’m so ashamed that my own sister could say such things. There's something wrong with her, Fitz. I don't understand how she can treat people like they don't matter."

“Hey now,” he murmured. “What your sister says or does is no reflection on you. You’re the warmest, most caring person I’ve ever met, Jemma. You’ve no need to feel any shame.”

Jemma pulled back to look up at his face. “I'm her big sister, Fitz,” she argued. “I should have done something to put her behaviour in check years ago. I just ignored it and hoped she'd grow out of it, the same as the rest of my family. And now she's gone too far, and her actions could cause serious damage to people and something needs to be done - I just wish I knew what."

Fitz pulled her in tighter and stroked her back as he kissed the top of her head. "You're not to blame, either, Jemma. Nobody is except Charlotte. She's an adult, she's responsible for her own actions, no-one else is." He rested his chin on top of her head, and they stood there like that for a moment. “I heard what you said, you know,” he said softly, after a while. “What you said about me. When you said that you wouldn’t let Charlotte get away with hurting someone you…someone you love. Did you mean that? And the part about how you wouldn’t go home again if your dad took her side?”

Jemma looked up at him, just as her phone started ringing again. "That's probably my dad again wanting to yell at me for the way I just spoke to him," she sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I'm not answering it."

Fitz looked at her for a moment, before letting go of her and reaching behind her to pick up the phone. "It's your mum," he said, holding it out to her.

"Oh, well, then, I'm definitely not answering it. That's all I need now, is her hauling me over the coals because of some shit that Charlotte's spun her."

“They’re your family, Jemma,” Fitz said gently. “No matter what they do - even Charlotte. I’ll always be here, no matter what. I’m not going to leave you just because I don’t get on with your sister. I don’t care what she does to me. And I know you. I know you wouldn’t be happy if there was a rift between you and them. You need to talk to them, to sort it out now.”

The phone rang off and Fitz tilted his head to one side and looked at her quizzically as he waited for her to take the phone. She folded her arms in defiance and he sighed and put it down again. "I think another cup of tea is in order,' he said as he rubbed her arms. She smiled weakly at him, and on impulse, threw her arms around his neck.

"Yes, I meant what I said to my dad. I love you,' she whispered.

"God, I love you too, Jemma. So much," he answered, as he brushed her hair off her face and cupped her jaw in his hand. He kissed her softly just as Jemma's phone started ringing again. They broke off the kiss and Jemma sighed. "Maybe you better answer it, sweetheart," Fitz said. "She's just going to keep ringing until you do. And I meant what I said. I don’t want to be the cause of you falling out with your family." He squeezed her arm, and then turned to walk out of the room, leaving her to talk to her mother in private.

Jemma turned around and marched over to the sofa, grabbing the phone and violently jabbing the green button. "WHAT??" she snapped as she put it to her ear.

"Jemma, darling, I know you're angry," came her mother's voice in the most conciliatory tone Jemma had ever heard her use. "And I don't blame you. I just want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything that happened."

Jemma stopped short. She wasn't expecting this. Of all the people she thought might possibly be on her side, the last person she'd imagined had been her mother. She and Fiona had never had a comfortable relationship, they'd never really understood each other, and as far back as she could remember, Jemma had always had the feeling that she had somehow fallen short of her mother's expectations. Charlotte, on the other hand, appeared to meet these expectations perfectly - she and Fiona had always been a team. Fiona didn't come from a manufacturing background, like George. Her family had been gentry, generations of them had lived on a landed estate in Yorkshire, right up until the 1960s when they'd gone broke and had to sell the estate. Fiona had spent most of her life being bitter about the loss of her family's wealth and status and she had been determined that her children would be a part of the society she had been ejected from. Charlotte had always played the society game perfectly, much to her mother's approval, but Jemma had never been interested, which had frustrated her mother no end. But now, here Fiona was, asking for her side of the story in the face of Charlotte’s accusations. Jemma wasn't quite sure how to begin.

"Well, I actually only found out about it all yesterday," she started hesitantly. Her voice still choked with angry tears, she began to tell her mother the whole story of everything that had happened since the coffee shop yesterday, and everything that Fitz and Hunter had told her. She could tell from her mother's little pained gasps after every revelation that she was accepting Jemma's story without question. Something cracked open in Jemma's chest and spread warmth throughout at the sheer relief of being believed. Soon the tears were flowing down her cheeks, no longer from the upset of Charlotte's actions, but from the cathartic experience of being listened to and understood by her mother. Jemma concluded her tale with arriving at the flat yesterday evening and Fitz's explanation of why he hadn't told her. She was almost tempted to tell her mother about getting together with Fitz, but decided that was a different conversation.

"Oh, God, Jemma," her mother groaned despairingly as soon as she had finished talking. "I'm so sorry that she's put Fitz through all this. I would never have believed that she could behave in such a shameful manner, I'm just disgusted right now. And I'm so sorry that your sister tried to ruin things for you, it is just...unbelievable. I don't know what to say." Fiona sounded genuinely upset.

"But you believe me, Mum," Jemma hiccupped. "Why me, and not Charlotte?"

"Well, of course, I believe you, dear. You're not a liar. And you're not manipulative and you're certainly not capable of blackmail. There was a lot about Charlotte's story that didn't add up when I heard it, a lot of things that didn't make sense to me. Number one, despite what you might think, I know you, darling, and I know that you could never behave in the way Charlotte was suggesting, no matter how much in thrall to a man you might be. And I could honestly never see you being in thrall to a man in the way she was implying. But the other thing that didn't ring true was her talking about how Fitz was using you to get the job in Shield, and to fund his research and so on. Five days ago I may have believed that. But that was before I met Fitz, before I saw the two of you together.”

“What?” Jemma could hardly believe her ears. She honestly thought her mother hadn’t liked Fitz, or approved of their friendship.

“Well, you see, Jemma,” Fiona explained, “in my family, and in my social group, you married for money. That’s just the way it was. This may shock you, dear, but the truth is that I married your father for his money. But I was one of the lucky ones among my friends, because as it turned out, your father happened to be a good, decent, hard-working man, who would do anything for his family. For me, marriage came first, love came later, and believe me, the second part never happened for most of the people I know. The reason I tell you all this is that I know what being with someone for ulterior motives looks like. I am under no illusions, for example, that your sister's relationship with Jonathan is anything other than socially and economically advantageous to both of them. It has very little to do with romance or even attraction. But there's just no way that Fitz is using you. That boy adores you, Jemma, you can see it when he looks at you, you can hear it in his voice when he talks about you. He is absolutely smitten with you, so I knew that what Charlotte was saying couldn't possibly be true."

Jemma let out a shaky breath. She felt unreasonably happy. Her mother not only believed her over Charlotte, but she also believed that Fitz loved her and that to Jemma felt like a validation of who she was as a person. If her mother accepted and approved of Fitz, then it felt like she was accepting and approving of who Jemma was, because there was nothing that felt more authentic to Jemma than her relationship with Fitz.

"There's another reason why I was so doubtful of Charlotte's story," her mother continued. "I didn't tell you this, but on Saturday night, at the party, I couldn't find Megan when I needed her. At the same time, Charlotte was looking for Jonathan. Then we saw them coming in from outside together, and they were very giggly and flirty. I wasn't sure what to do about the situation, but I took Megan aside, scolded her a little for neglecting her duties and told her that her grandmother would be very disappointed in her. I instructed her to take another tray of drinks round. As I walked away, I heard this huge crash, and I turned around to see Megan and the tray on the ground, glass and wine everywhere. And Charlotte was standing over her. I couldn't hear what Charlotte was saying to her, but it looked like she was speaking to her in a very threatening manner. It looked for all the world as if Charlotte had tripped Megan up while she was carrying the tray, and then warned her to stay away from Jonathan or something. I just couldn't believe that my daughter would do that, I couldn't bring myself to believe that she would behave in that way. I mean, Alice has been with us for years, she's family, she helped me raise you three, what would she say if she saw Charlotte abusing her grand-daughter like that? But the minute your father came off the phone to her last night, and related that cock and bull story to me, I knew right away that something was amiss. I knew that I had seen Charlotte's true colours that night, and that she was up to something with this story about you and Fitz as well.”

Jemma covered her eyes in horror at this latest revelation about Charlotte’s abusive behaviour. She heard her mother sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I'm just so deeply ashamed, Jemma, that my daughter could behave in this way. I'm ashamed that I brought her up this way, I should have seen it before, I should have been stricter with her when she was younger. But you were always so independent and so clever, and I never understood anything that you were talking about, and if I’m perfectly honest, I loved having at least one daughter who looked up to me, when my oldest one was so disinterested in anything I had to teach her. Not that it's your fault, dear, I shouldn't have been so insecure as a mother, I should have made more of an effort to get to know you and learn about what you were interested in. But Charlotte was always happy to follow my lead, and so I indulged her...well, because I wanted her love, really. I mean, I always knew that she was spoiled and wilful, but I thought she'd grow out of it when she settled down. I never thought that she could be so malicious, so...completely lacking in any kind of grace or class or decorum." Fiona's voice was shaking, and Jemma knew this had upset her mother deeply.

"I've been telling myself, Mum, that I should have taken more of an interest as her big sister, when she was younger, I should have given her more guidance. I know that I've always been too wrapped up in my studies and not involved enough with the family. I think, in a way, we all could have done differently, and maybe then Charlotte would have been different. But Fitz is right, Charlotte is an adult now, and she is responsible for her own actions, and there is nobody to blame for this mess except Charlotte."

"I’m starting to think that Fitz is very wise, Jemma.”

“He is, Mum,” she beamed proudly. “He’s not just the smartest person I’ve ever met, but the kindest and most understanding as well.”

“Well, I’m glad that you have him, darling. I truly am. But, what do you think we should do about Charlotte?"

Jemma sighed. "I don't know, Mum. I really don't. I wish I did, I've been trying to think of what to do myself. I would try talking to her, but for one thing, I'm too angry at her right now, and for another, going by what she accused me and Fitz and Hunter of after yesterday's confrontation, I honestly don't think it would do any good. I think the only thing that might work is Dad talking to her. He's the only person who has any power over Charlotte at all. She's dependent upon him for money, for her job, so I think he's the only one who could get through to her. But he's not going to do anything about her, is he?" she asked bitterly. "He always gives her the benefit of the doubt."

"Not this time, darling," her mother replied. "Not after your phone call with him, he was really shaken by that and really upset that he'd hurt you. It's not that he believed Charlotte over you, Jemma, you must understand that. It's more that he didn't know what to believe. Charlotte has always had him wrapped around her little finger, so when he gets a tearful, panicky phone call from her, he immediately feels like he has to come to her rescue. And you know fathers, they always think that they have to protect their daughters from the wiles of men, so the mere suggestion that Fitz intended any harm to you or to Charlotte got his protective hackles up. And you have to understand, Jemma, that he would never have believed that Charlotte could lie about something like this. What you told him has really shocked him, he really was blind to Charlotte's faults. I think this has opened his eyes. I'll tell you what..." Her mother had taken on a more decisive tone now. "I think that your father and I should come to London tomorrow. I think we need to sit down with Charlotte, I think we need to intervene here. Do you think...would you and Fitz be able to show us that demonstration of your work tomorrow? Or is that too short notice?"

"No, no, I think we'd be able to show you a couple of DWARFs tomorrow at least,” Jemma declared, amazed and pleased that her mother still seemed interested in seeing her work, despite all this recent upset. “And the gun is ready, we can't shoot it obviously, but Fitz has said he's willing to let me demonstrate a little of the dendrotoxin on him, so that you can see how it works."

"Oh, I don't know about that," her mother replied dubiously. "There's no need to demonstrate it on himself! I mean, isn't that dangerous?"

"No, not in the doses we'll be using. It will completely paralyse him, but only for a few minutes, and it won't leave any harmful effects whatsoever. We've done it before, we know what we're doing," Jemma assured her.

"Well, you're the expert, darling, I'll leave it to you,' her mother replied. "I'll talk to your father and I'll contact you later to let you know what time we'll be arriving and so on."

"Okay, Mum,' Jemma responded. "I'll talk to you later. And Mum?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you."

"Not at all, darling. Thank you for telling me the truth. And please, Jemma, do tell Fitz that we're deeply sorry for all the trouble that Charlotte has caused him. It's unforgivable, really, and I want him to know that the rest of the family is not like Charlotte, that we're horrified by this. Tell him he doesn't have to worry anymore, that Charlotte will not do anything to harm his career now, we'll make sure of that."

"I will, Mum. I love you."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. When her mother spoke again, she sounded as if she was about to cry. "I love you too, my darling," she said effusively.

Jemma smiled to herself and ended the call. She put the phone back in her bag and wandered back down the hall to Fitz's bedroom. He sat up from where he'd been lying on the bed as he saw her come in.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, with a worried expression.

Jemma smiled at him. "Yes, everything is fine, Fitz. Just fine. My mother believes us, she says my father does now as well, they're going to come to London tomorrow to talk to Charlotte, and they want us to do the demonstration. Are we ready to do it tomorrow, do you think?"

"Absolutely!" Fitz looked delighted by this turn of events. Jemma realised that he had been very concerned for her, and her already warmed heart hit melting point. "We'll do a dry run today, just to make sure that everything goes smoothly, but I think they'll be very impressed with what Grumpy and Sneezy can do..."

He broke off, as Jemma climbed on the bed and straddled him, pushing him back down onto the bed and kissing him deeply. He let out a surprised moan into her mouth, and she broke off to whisper: "I believe we were in the middle of something, before we were interrupted."

"Oh god, yes, we were," Fitz whispered back, and she leant to kiss him again.


	12. Team Fitzsimmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma tells Fitz about Charlotte's accusations. Jemma and Fitz go to her house to get set up for the demonstration, where they have a run-in with Charlotte.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this chapter is a few days late because I've been sick this week. Which means that the next chapter will be a bit late as well. :( I also apologise to people who left comments on the last chapter as I haven't been able to reply to them yet - I will do so now. We're getting near the end now - just a couple of chapters left!

Breathless, with shaking limbs and heaving chest, Fitz lay on the bed trying to claim back what was left of his mind after another bout of incredible sex with Jemma. She had flopped down on the bed beside him, her breath still coming in high-pitched gasps. He turned his head to look at her where she lay, and couldn't help himself from letting his eyes roam over the length of her naked body, all flushed and glistening with sweat. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything so beautiful. He began to laugh when he noticed the muscles in her thighs twitching. She joined in, more from the pure euphoria of the hormones rushing through her system he knew, rather than any awareness of what had amused him. Then he realised that he wasn't really amused either, just ecstatically happy.

"Oh god, that was fantastic," Jemma panted through her giggles. "That was the best yet, and I thought all three times last night were amazing."

"Yep," Fitz agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically. "Yep to everything you said. Can't speak yet, don't have words."

They both started laughing again.

"God, I hope Hunter had his headphones on," Fitz chuckled. "Because that got _loud!_ Who knew someone as well-spoken and polite as you could make so much noise!"

"Hey, it's not my fault!" Jemma countered, slapping his arm with the back of her hand. "If you're concerned about my volume level then you shouldn't give me such intense orgasms, should you?"

"Yeah, I have no idea how I'm doing that by the way," Fitz replied. "I've literally never had anything even remotely close to that reaction from a woman before. I think it's just you. You're just brilliant at everything."

"Oh, I don't think so," Jemma said as she rolled on her side and snuggled into him. "Since I've never come like that before last night, and it happened every single time, I think you're the one who's brilliant at everything."

"Or maybe we're just brilliant at everything we do together," Fitz murmured as he wrapped his arm around her and leant down to kiss her. "Because I've never experienced anything that good before either."

"Really?" Jemma whispered back at him.

"Oh god, yes, really," Fitz replied emphatically. She gave a little hum of contentment, and he kissed the tip of her nose, before she lay her head on his chest. They lay there in blissful silence for a few moments, Fitz absently trailing his hand up and down her back, before Jemma spoke again.

"Do you really think Hunter could have heard?"

"Um...yeah, I do. He definitely heard us last night anyway."

"Do you think he would have heard me talking on the phone to my dad earlier?"

"From his room? I doubt it. I mean, you were shouting at one stage, that's why I came into the living room, but unless you were standing right outside his door, I think it would have sounded muffled to him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, why? What's wrong? Jemma? What did Charlotte say?" He'd begun to feel a deep unease when he'd heard Jemma's raised voice earlier, and it had intensified when she wouldn't tell him what Charlotte had told George. Her vastly improved mood when she came back from talking to her mother had made him feel better, however, and the subsequent sex had put it right out of his head. Now with this concern about whether or not Hunter had heard her, the fear settled right back into his stomach.

"You're going to get mad," Jemma replied, propping herself up on her arm. "And you've a right to, but just know that nobody believes her. My mum never believed her from the start and my dad, I think, is feeling bad now that he ever did. He always believes Charlotte, but between me and my mum, we've set him right."

"What did she say, Jemma?" Fitz was on edge, he could see that Jemma clearly didn't want him to know what Charlotte had told her parents. His stomach knotted in anger again. This had been his perfect morning, waking up with Jemma, cuddling and touching and having sex, and yet Charlotte had still found a way to intrude, a way to ruin things for him once again. Even worse, she had upset Jemma, she had made her cry and that Fitz found unforgivable. Still, he was being careful to control the anger in his voice, he didn't want to ruin Jemma's new-found good mood.

Jemma ducked her head and played with the edge of the duvet cover while she spoke. "She told my dad that you deliberately filmed her with Hunter and you and I were using the video to blackmail her."

Fitz barked a sardonic laugh, too astonished to even be angry. "You are absolutely taking the piss! _Jesus!_ _What the fuck?!_ ”

"I know, but her reasoning for us doing that was very flimsy and even my dad was suspicious and my mum just flat out didn't believe it at all."

"Why, what was it?"

"It doesn't matter..."

"Jemma." Fitz said firmly.

Jemma sighed. "She told them you were using me for my research, you were trying to steal it, but you were also after my money - I think she threw that one in because it's a particular fear of my parents' - and she said I was going along with it just because I was in love with you. I think she didn't want to make it seem like it was too much my fault in case my parents refused to believe her."

Fitz's mouth hung open for a minute while his brain tried to process this nonsense. Then he started to laugh. It was really the only appropriate response. "Well, I have to say, I’m quite flattered. I love that in this little scenario I'm a seducer and manipulator of beautiful women as well as a dastardly extortionist. I'm quite the dashing rogue in your sister's imagination, aren't I? In fact, I'm pretty sure I should be offended that your parents didn't believe that part!"

"It's not funny, Fitz."

"I disagree, I think it's hilarious. I've never heard anything more ludicrous in my life. I think Charlotte's losing the bloody plot!"

"You haven't heard the worst of it."

"How does it get any worse than that? I mean, that's a bad soap opera plot right there."

Jemma went quiet. She glanced towards the door, and Fitz suddenly remembered that Jemma had been worried that Hunter might have overheard her conversation. Fear clutched his gut and he sat bolt upright on the bed.

"Jemma, what did she tell them about Hunter?"

He could see the pain in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her voice was shaking slightly. "She told my dad that she was drunk and he took advantage of her."

" _What??_ " Fitz's mouth had gone dry, and the single word came out as a whisper.

"And that you filmed it. The whole thing obviously sounded a sexual assault to my father, I think that's why he lost his reason over it, thinking for even one second that something like that could have happened to his daughter."

Fitz leapt out of the bed. "That evil.... _bitch!_ She's actually accusing Hunter of _rape?!_ And me of being some sort of accomplice?!"

"Don't panic, Fitz, please! And keep your voice down, I don't want Hunter to hear this, it won't do him any good to know. These accusations aren't going anywhere. They were only to get sympathy from my father and to disguise the fact that she'd been screwing around. I don't even think she thought them through. And my parents don't believe them. The minute I asked my dad if she was actually accusing Hunter of rape, he said no, and then he began to lose confidence in the story."

"Jesus Christ, Jemma! She's gone way too far this time!"

"I know. I know she has. That's why my parents are coming here to talk to her. My mum was horrified. I think my dad's pretty shaken up by that lie too. She's out of control. It's like I said, there's something wrong with her."

"And she honestly expected your parents to believe that you were a party to all this?! To the abuse of your sister?! I mean, I think that's the worst thing here. Me and Hunter, we're nothing to her, or to your parents, but you're her sister. Who has never done anything to harm her, not the way she has you."

"I threatened to expose her. To show the video to the people who could take everything away from her. I made her feel vulnerable, she needed to ensure that I couldn't destroy her like that, so she attacked first, by telling my dad about the video but making it sound like she was the victim and not the aggressor."

"And she could have ruined our lives in the process! Mine, yours and especially Hunter's!"

"I know! You don't think I see the enormity of what she's done here? You don't think this hurts like hell, the fact that this is my own sister that has done this?” Jemma had started to cry again, and Fitz folded his hands behind the back of his head and closed his eyes.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” he sighed. “I’m letting her come between us, even though I swore I wouldn’t. I’m so sorry, Jemma. C’mere.” He crossed back to the bed and sat beside her, gathering her in his arms again.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” she sobbed into his chest. “This is all Charlotte’s fault, and I hate her for doing this. I hate her so much right now. And I can’t believe I’m crying again, it’s all I’ve done since yesterday. I’ve just been on this emotional rollercoaster between everything that’s happened with Charlotte in the last 24 hours, and everything that’s happened with you since last night. I’m a mess.”

“C’mon, you’re not a mess,” he cooed, as he stroked her hair. “Like you said, it’s been a crazy 24 hours, and you’ve just discovered that your sister’s done this horrible thing, it’s completely understandable that you would get upset. And I know I’m not helping matters, yelling like that. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s Charlotte that I’m angry at, you get that, right?” Jemma nodded as her sobbing began to subside. “And you haven’t just been crying since yesterday,” he continued after a moment, with a sly smile. She looked up at him questioningly. “You’ve also had a _lot_ of sex.”

Jemma snorted against Fitz’s sternum, and he chuckled as he kissed the top of her head.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, lifting her head and wiping her eyes, as she fixed him with a rueful half smile.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot now,” he grinned, as he kissed her lips.

“Yes, you are,” she whispered, before kissing him back.

“Hey, listen,” he said, grasping her hand as she moved away from his lips. “We’re going to make a promise now. Both of us. No more letting Charlotte come between us. No more letting her get in our heads, either of us. We’re a team, no matter what. We’re both much smarter than her, and together…well, we’re twice as smart, and she’s no match for us. Deal?”

“Deal!” She beamed back at him.

“Okay, good. And you know how we seal deals, don’t you?”

“Would it by any chance be with a kiss?” she asked wryly.

“Absolutely it would,” he replied seriously. “That is how you make a solemn and binding contract. And I’m going to need to feel some tongue, or else I won’t believe you mean it.”

She giggled and swatted him on the chest, but her mouth closed over his all the same, and within seconds they were both breathless and moaning again. His hands slipped below the sheets that were covering her, but Jemma pulled herself away from him, smacking her lips in satisfaction as she did so.

“Don’t even think about it, pal,” she warned playfully. “I am way too sore right now to want to do that again, and we’ve got work to do today. First of all, I need to take a shower, and then I’m going to go home and get a change of clothes before I head to the coffee shop and sweet talk your boss into giving Hunter a job, and making sure that you keep yours. Then you’re going to meet me at the lab so that we can get everything we need for the demonstration and bring them back to my house and do a dry run before my parents arrive. Okay? Now…is there hot water?”

“God, you’re so hot when you’re bossy,” he groaned.

 

 

Jemma had changed into a pretty floral dress, curled her hair and put on make-up when Fitz met her outside the lab. “Wow,” he breathed, as she walked towards him. “You look beautiful.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him happily. “Is this for your parents?” he asked, looking down at her dress as she moved away.

“Actually, this was for the coffee shop,” she replied. “Which went exceptionally well, by the way. You may text Hunter and let him know that he is to call and speak to Graham at four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Wait a minute.” He stopped and frowned as she walked breezily towards the door. “Did you get all dressed up to go to the coffee shop and _flirt_ with my boss? Because that was definitely NOT part of the plan.”

“Oh my god, are you jealous?!” she exclaimed as she stopped to look back at him, one hand on the door. “You absolute wally! I did not flirt with your boss, Fitz! It wouldn’t even have made any sense for me to flirt with him, since I was there to look for my _boyfriend_ , whom I thought was working today, and was very miffed to discover that I was mistaken, since I had gotten myself all dressed up for him. Because obviously I’m madly in love with him and would be just devastated if anything bad happened to him, say like getting fired, or something like that.”

“Boyfriend?” Fitz had frozen in place, with what he knew was a very silly grin plastered on his face.

“Yes, Fitz, boyfriend.” She smiled knowingly at him. “Now, if only my _boyfriend_ would hurry up and help me get the stuff we need out of this lab!”

“Again. Bossy – hot,” he muttered, as he hurried towards her.

“I will say this though,” she continued innocently, tossing her pretty curls as she pushed the door open. “I do think the dress helped. He did seem to like it.”

Fitz gritted his teeth as he took the door from her.

 

They had decided to set up a fake crime scene in the study at Jemma’s house for the demonstration. Jemma had managed to borrow a CPR dummy from the Department of Medicine to use as the body, and she took samples of various chemicals from the lab which could be safely sprayed in the air for Sneezy to identify. They loaded these into the car boot along with the DWARF and gun cases. When they got to the house, they collected some samples from around the house – soil from the garden, some of Poppy’s hairs, chewing gum from the bin and the butt of one of Charlotte’s cigarettes from an ashtray in the living room. They placed these around the dummy, to serve as trace evidence for Grumpy to collect. The first run went well, apart from Poppy yelping at the DWARFs as they zoomed around the room. Fitz tried to persuade Jemma to let him use the fake blood and crime scene tape he’d bought from a fancy dress shop on the way to the lab, but Jemma was concerned that her parents might find it a bit too much. Besides, Poppy kept enthusiastically licking the blood off the dummy when Fitz tried to apply it, and she kept jumping up to grab the police tape when Fitz tried to pin it up. Eventually they agreed that Poppy should probably be kept in another room when Jemma’s parents arrived. Finally satisfied that everything was ready to go, they decided to break for lunch.

They heard the front door open whilst Fitz was sitting at the kitchen table with Poppy happily ensconced on his knee and Jemma was busy examining the contents of the fridge.

“That wouldn’t be your parents already, would it?” Fitz asked as he paused in scratching under Poppy’s chin.

“No, it wouldn’t,” Jemma replied ominously, as she closed the fridge door.

Fitz placed Poppy on the floor, ignoring her scrabbling at his leg to get back up, as Charlotte walked into the room, her eyes red and swollen as if she’d been crying. She halted when she saw Fitz and Jemma. Poppy ran to Charlotte, but stopped just short of her and suddenly raced back across the floor to Fitz, evidently sensing her owner’s mood. Charlotte never so much as glanced at the dog. She glared at Jemma as she dropped her coat and bag into a chair. Fitz watched her warily before glancing at Jemma to see her reaction – Jemma was giving Charlotte the iciest look he had ever seen. He shuddered slightly and promised himself he would never do anything to get on Jemma’s bad side.

“What the fuck did you say to Daddy, Jemma?” Charlotte sniffed bitterly. She sounded like a five-year-old in the midst of a self-pitying sulk.

“I told him the truth, Charlotte,” Jemma replied with a dangerous edge to her voice that Fitz wasn’t quite sure he wasn’t a little turned on by. “Which is more than I can say for you. Really the more pertinent question is, what did you tell Dad, Charlotte? Because what he told me was that you basically accused Hunter of rape and Fitz and me of exploitation and extortion. Which couldn’t possibly be the case, because you know that absolutely none of that is even remotely true.”

“I didn’t say that! I didn’t use any of those words! It’s not my fault if Daddy picked me up wrong!” Charlotte cried in a wounded tone.

“Well, I have to be honest, the fact that you’re denying it is a great relief to me. Because at least I know that you understand the gravity of those accusations. At least you know how wrong it is,” Jemma replied, her voice trembling. Poppy started to whine, her little head turning back and forth between Jemma and Charlotte.

“I told Daddy the truth, which was that you had that video of me, which _he_ took,” Charlotte yelled, pointing at Fitz. “And that you threatened to send it to people.”

“I threatened to send it to people, if you carried out _your_ threat to sabotage Fitz’s career!” Jemma shouted. “And that video was taken by accident, Charlotte. We live in a world of cameras absolutely everywhere, if you don’t want to be caught doing something embarrassing, then you just shouldn’t cheat on your boyfriend, should you? Or try to blackmail people who see you do it! Don’t act like you’re the victim here! And don’t make awful accusations that could ruin innocent people’s lives! Don’t do that at all, ever, but especially not just because you don’t want your rich boyfriend to dump you, or your rich father to be disappointed in you.”

“I didn’t accuse anyone of anything,” Charlotte shouted indignantly. Poppy was barking frantically now. Since Charlotte didn’t appear to notice her anxiety, Fitz scooped her back up into his arms.

“You told your father that Hunter took advantage of you when you were drunk, Charlotte,” he interjected calmly, as he attempted to soothe the dog. “That’s rape. Your father could have called the police, Hunter could have been arrested. I doubt it would have got any further than that, because there is absolutely no evidence to support your story – however, there is plenty of evidence to show that you were sleeping with him over a period of time.”

“What, like your little video?” she sneered.

“That, and the phone you smashed yesterday,” Jemma replied in a now much more composed fashion. “I noticed it was in the bin - a good technical CSI could still get all your texts off that, Charlotte. In fact, Fitz could do that, right?” she added, looking at him.

“Absolutely,” he nodded. “That wouldn’t take me very long at all. Also, the nightclub where you met Hunter has CCTV footage of the two of you snogging in a corridor – on a completely different date from the video of you two snogging in our flat.” Charlotte had gone pale, and she clamped her mouth shut.

“Not that any of this matters,” Jemma added. “Because Mum and Dad don’t believe your little tale. They know the truth now, so your accusations can’t do Hunter any harm. Or Fitz. He could have been arrested as well, you know, if Dad had gone to the police. Like he said, there was no evidence to charge either of them, but they could have lost their jobs with Shield just for having been arrested or accused.”

“Well, they haven’t lost their jobs,” Charlotte snapped. “But I have! Daddy just fired me! Over the phone, if you can believe that. And it’s all your fault, Jemma!”

 _Nice one, George_ , Fitz thought to himself.

“No, Charlotte, it’s all your fault,” Jemma retorted. “You brought this upon yourself. This is the result of your own actions, not mine, not Fitz’s, not anyone else’s but yours. I’m just sorry that it took you so long to learn a lesson about consequences, but better late than never, I always say. Still, you can learn all the lessons you want, you can experience all the consequences you have coming to you, but it makes no difference to me, because I will never forgive you for this, Charlotte!” Jemma’s voice had gone up in both volume and pitch now, and Fitz looked at her in consternation, realising that she was about to cry again.

“As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a sister anymore,” Jemma continued, as the tears began to fall. “Because sisters don’t threaten and blackmail and bully and make false accusations and potentially destroy the careers of the people their sisters care about, just to suit their own convenience. So I honestly don’t give a shit that Dad fired you from a job you were only playing at anyway. You can go fuck yourself for all I care!”

“Okay, okay,” Fitz intervened, getting up and crossing the room with Poppy in his arms. He reached Jemma, putting one hand on her back and rubbing it. “C’mon Jemma, let’s get out of here for a while. Why don’t we go out and have a nice lunch before your parents arrive?”

“Give me back my dog, you!” Charlotte snapped at him, marching over to him to grab Poppy out of his hands. Fitz held the dog out of her way, concerned that her rough treatment might hurt the tiny creature. Charlotte stared at him in astonishment. “ _How dare you!_ That’s _my_ dog, Fitz!”

“Oh, it’s _your_ dog, now is it?” Jemma snarled at her. “That’s funny, because _I’ve_ been the one taking care of her, ever since you got bored with her after just a few weeks of carrying her everywhere in your handbag, like she was a fashion accessory. She ran to Fitz because she’s spent more time with him over the last month than she did with you. I mean, the dog-sitter had to ring yesterday to ask when you were going to pick her up, because she was expecting you to call when you got back from Devon on Sunday. The dog-sitter that _I_ found by the way, because I was concerned the poor thing was spending too much time on her own, when you were at work, and I was at the lab. Face it, Charlotte, you’re just too selfish and irresponsible to look after a dog.”

“Okay!” Fitz declared firmly, as an outraged Charlotte opened her mouth to retaliate. “Let's everyone calm down. All this shouting is not doing the dog any good.” Jemma turned her tear-filled eyes to Poppy, who was trembling in Fitz’s arms.

“Oh, Poppy, I’m sorry,” she cried, reaching out for her. Fitz held up his hand to stop her, afraid both of Jemma’s emotional state traumatising the dog further, and of the possibility of another round of hostilities should Jemma take Charlotte’s pet. She gave him a hurt look, and he reached for her arm and stroked it as he spoke to her as gently as he could.

“Jemma, sweetheart, I’m sorry but you’re very, very upset right now, and that’s making Poppy very anxious, so I’m going to put her down, and since she’s Charlotte’s dog,” he added, giving Charlotte a significant look, “Charlotte’s going to look after her while we go out and get some lunch and everyone has a chance to calm down before your parents arrive.”

“Don’t tell me to look after my own dog, Fitz!” Charlotte snapped at him. “And stop acting like you’re a part of this family, this is none of your business!” Fitz and Jemma reacted at the same time.

“ _None of his…?!_ ”

“ _None of my…?!_ ”

Fitz snapped his mouth shut and held up his hand to silence Jemma, before gesturing to the dog. Jemma went quiet, and Fitz walked past Charlotte, out of the kitchen and into the living room, where he deposited Poppy on the sofa and put her favourite blanket over her, before walking back into the kitchen and closing the door behind him.

“First of all,” he hissed in a hushed tone, “you made it my business, Charlotte, when you threatened to have me fired, and told me you’d make sure I’d never work for Shield or have anything to do with Jemma. You involved me in your business, even when I didn’t want to be. For the record, by the way, I never gave a flying fuck about your sex life, and I would never have told Jemma about you and Hunter.” Jemma squeaked indignantly at him.

“I’m sorry, Jemma, but it’s true,” he added, turning to her. “I should have told you that she blackmailed me, yes, but who she sleeps with is neither my concern nor yours, and I wouldn’t have told you because it wasn’t my secret to tell and you didn’t need to know. Maybe now it would be different, keeping something like that from you, but at that stage, I had only just met you and it didn’t feel like my call to make. Also, babe,” he muttered in an undertone, “We’re a team. Our deal? Remember?”

Jemma wavered for a minute, before closing her lips in a tight line and giving him a nod, along with a look that clearly said “we’ll talk about this later.” He nodded gratefully at her, and they both turned their attention back to Charlotte.

“Secondly Charlotte,” Fitz continued, “Jemma _is_ my business. I’m sorry to talk about you as if you’re not here, Jemma,” he said, addressing her, “but she needs to know this.” He turned back to Charlotte. “If you hurt Jemma, if you upset her, if you make her angry, then that’s my business, don’t tell me it’s not. I’m not going to stand by while you make the most important person in my life cry, I don’t care if you’re her sister or not. Also, the demonstration that we’re doing for your parents this afternoon is definitely my business and I don’t want that to be ruined - and quite frankly I think that a frightened animal is everyone’s business. I’m not going to apologise for trying to protect Poppy, no matter whose dog she is. So, tell me, what part of all this exactly do you think is _not_ my business?”

“Where do you get off acting like Jemma belongs to you?” Charlotte spat at him. “Do you think you’re her boyfriend or something? You’re just her lab partner, Fitz. I don’t what twisted little fantasy you have in your head about the two of you, but I told you before, you’re a nobody, you’re nothing compared to our family, and you’re never going to be with Jemma, my parents would never allow it.”

“ _CHARLOTTE!!! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT?!_ ” Jemma shrieked. “For your information, Fitz _is_ my boyfriend now, and he is worth a hundred of you! You’re the one that’s a nobody, you hide behind your family, and think that you’re important just because your dad has made a lot of money.” Charlotte gaped at her in horror.

Fitz placed his hand gently on Jemma’s shoulder. This was a nightmare – every time he managed to get things to calm down, Charlotte would say something malicious and stupid and upset Jemma all over again.

“Charlotte doesn’t understand that you don’t _belong_ to anybody, Jemma,” he said as calmly as he could. “Not to me, not to your parents, not to her, not to anybody but yourself. She doesn’t understand that you make your own decisions and nobody has to _allow_ you to do anything. She thinks you belong to your family, that’s why she thinks she can talk to me like that, because she thinks I’m trespassing.” He looked directly at Charlotte now. “I meant that Jemma was my business because her well-being is important to me, not because I _own_ her or anything like that. I want her to be happy, so I’m not going to let you get in the way of that. But I don’t really expect you to understand that. Have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself, Charlotte? Have you ever wanted someone else to be happy? I genuinely don’t think you have, have you?”

Charlotte stared back at him for a moment, before making a sound of frustration, stamping her foot and turning and storming out of the room.

“Wow,” Fitz said, as they listened to her stomp up the stairs. “She is literally a child.”

Jemma slumped against the fridge door, looking defeated and exhausted. “I think that’s her problem,” she said. “I think she is. She’s emotionally stunted, she never grew up. A spoiled brat is the only thing she knows how to be.”

“C’mon,” he said, reaching out his hand to her. “Let’s go, get away from all this for a while. Try and rescue some semblance of the nice day we were having.” Jemma nodded wearily at him, before giving him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Fitz,” she said, as she peeled herself off the fridge and moved towards him, fixing him with a warm gaze as she did so. “For what you said, for being here, for standing up for me, for caring, just…for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve changed my life, and now I can’t imagine it without you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. He hugged her tight to him, and nuzzled the top of her head.

“I can’t imagine mine without you either, Jemma,” he murmured. “And I meant what I said. I won’t let Charlotte treat you the way she does anymore. That is my business. I love you, and as long as you want me in your life, I’m not going to stand for her hurting you.” She lifted her face to his, and he kissed her tenderly.

“I’m going to get Poppy,” she told him, as she broke away from him, wiping her eyes. “I don’t care what she says, the dog’s distressed so we’re taking her with us, not leaving her here for Charlotte to ignore her. It’s a nice day, we’ll find somewhere we can eat outside. And I could murder a cup of tea.”

“Okay, but I’m driving,” he warned her, as she walked towards the door. “I don’t think you’re in a fit state right now.”

“Fitz.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really hot when you’re bossy as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to everyl1ttleth1ng, who gave me the "You absolute wally!" line in an earlier comment!


	13. Crime and Detection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's parents arrive for the demonstration but all does not go to plan and Charlotte is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late with this update, I haven't been well lately. But the next chapter will be coming soon, don't worry!

After a leisurely two-hour lunch in the sun, sitting outside a pub with Poppy, Fitz and Jemma made their way back to the house, equilibrium now much restored. During lunch they had discussed whether they actually needed Jemma’s father to agree to a deal with Shield, now that everything was out in the open, and Charlotte wouldn’t be able to convince him to sabotage Fitz’s contract. But Fitz had decided that he still wanted Jemma’s parents to see their work, and Jemma still felt that medical DWARFs were actually a great idea. George and Fiona had texted that they’d be arriving within the hour, so all that was left to do now was wait. When they arrived at the house, everything was just as they had left it in the study and Charlotte was thankfully nowhere to be seen. Jemma had bought some pastries on the way home, and she made a selection of sandwiches, figuring that her parents might be hungry after their four-hour drive. She laid out the tea things on the kitchen table, whilst Fitz prepared the tea pot for when they arrived. Eventually they heard the key turn in the door, and Poppy began barking excitedly as she raced down the hall. Jemma experienced a momentary surge of anxiety as she heard her parents’ voices greeting Poppy, and when she glanced at Fitz, she saw him fidgeting as if he too were suddenly nervous.

It was almost comical how Fitz leapt to his feet from where he was sitting at the table as soon as George and Fiona entered the kitchen. They were trying not to step on Poppy who was still dancing around their feet. Fitz raced over and picked her up, while Jemma went to hug her mother. Much to her surprise Fiona embraced her tightly, bringing a lump to Jemma’s throat. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had held her so closely. Over Fiona’s shoulder, Jemma saw her father give Fitz a rather shamefaced look, before he walked over to him and gripped his shoulder. “Fitz. I don’t know what to say,” George addressed him gruffly. “I’m damn sorry about all this trouble. I can’t believe what Charlotte’s put you through, it’s absolutely disgraceful behaviour. Absolutely shocking! I can’t tell you how appalled we are.” Fitz gave him a brief smile and nodded, clearly unsure of what else to say. He hugged Poppy tightly to his chest and she licked his face.

Her mother let Jemma go and crossed the kitchen to Fitz. Jemma grinned to herself when she saw her mother open her arms and Fitz’s eyes widen and his face drain of all colour as Fiona enveloped him and Poppy in a hug. “Oh, we are, Fitz. Absolutely appalled. It is devastating to hear what Charlotte subjected you to. Just such…crude, tasteless behaviour. Like something off one of those reality shows one sees nowadays. People acting in all sort of awful ways and doing it on TV for everyone to see.”

“Those shows are all staged, Mum,” Jemma said. “And you’re rambling a bit.”

“I am, yes,” Fiona replied, wringing her hands as she turned away from a red-faced Fitz towards Jemma. “I’m just so…mortified! To think my daughter could be so spiteful and cruel. I’d like to say I didn’t bring her up to behave that way, but really we have no-one to blame but ourselves, do we, George?”

Her father sighed heavily and shook his head at the floor. Jemma could see that this had all but broken his heart, and she felt a pang as she looked at him, quickly followed by a renewed surge of anger that Charlotte had not only caused Fitz such trouble but had now succeeded in hurting her parents as well. There was a brief, tense silence as everyone looked at George, before he eventually lifted his head and looked at Jemma.“Where is she?” he asked grimly.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe upstairs? We just got back from lunch about an hour ago and she was nowhere to be seen. She hasn’t appeared since. I didn’t look for her because…well…we had words, before we left.”

George walked out into the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs. “CHARLOTTE!” he roared suddenly, making Jemma, Fitz and Fiona all jump at the same time. “GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE NOW!” There was no reply. George’s face turned an alarming scarlet colour, and Jemma feared that Fitz was about to subjected to one of George Simmons’ rare but infamous rages. Her brother Thomas had had something of a wild youth, and Jemma had only ever seen these fits of ire directed at him, never at Daddy’s precious Charlotte before.

“I’ll go,” Fiona said quickly, brushing past her husband before he could open his mouth to speak again. Fiona raced up the stairs, and George stormed back into the kitchen, pacing up and down.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Dad?” Jemma asked nervously.

“What?” George glanced up in confusion. “Oh!” he exclaimed as she gestured to the spread on the table. “No thanks, not now, love, if you don’t mind. To be honest, I don’t think I can stomach anything.”

“What about something stronger than tea, George?” Fitz suddenly piped up. “A single malt, maybe or a brandy?”

“Aye, that’s a good idea, lad,” George sighed. “Is the drinks cabinet stocked, Jem?” Jemma felt a surge of gratitude towards Fitz for knowing exactly what her father needed to calm down.

“It is, Dad, Fitz and I just replaced the whiskey recently. We usually have a couple when he’s here.” Fitz shook his head at her in alarm, clearly terrified that George would be enraged by the idea of Fitz drinking his private stash late at night in George’s house, alone with his daughter, but George just nodded his head absently and Jemma moved towards the cabinet to fix her father a drink. 

Her mother arrived back downstairs, flapping her arms in defeat. “No sign of her,” she announced in an irritated fashion. “She’s not here.”

“Hell and damnation!” George snapped. “I specifically told her to be here, that we wanted to talk to her. What the bloody hell is wrong with that girl?”

Jemma hurried across the kitchen with a single malt for her father. “Here you go, Dad,” she said, pressing it into his hand.

“Thanks, love,” he replied gratefully, his anger abating somewhat as he clasped the crystal-encased amber liquid that appeared to be the only thing between him and some kind of fit.

“Oh really, George! Alcohol? At this time?” Fiona queried disapprovingly.

“Yes,” he replied tersely, taking a sip.

Fiona sighed. “In that case, I’ll take a sherry, Jemma.”

“I’ll get it.” Fitz placed Poppy back on the floor and moved towards the cabinet, squeezing Jemma’s arm as he passed her. “What about you, Jemma, do you want anything?”

“Not before the demonstration, no,” Jemma answered in a clipped tone, warning him with her eyes not to even think of partaking himself. He replied with an acquiescent shrug and a regretful glance at the bottle of single malt, as he poured Fiona’s sherry. It occurred to Jemma that all this family tension was probably really stressful for Fitz, who was just used to him and his lovely mum, and Jemma couldn’t imagine her arguing about anything. “We can have a drink afterwards though,” she acceded.

She turned to her parents. “I know that you’re probably not in the mood for this,” she began awkwardly. “I know that you’re both upset, and that you wanted to speak to Charlotte first. But we’re here now, so, if you want to come into the study and we’ll show you our work. It’ll hopefully pass the time until she gets back, maybe take your mind off things a little bit?”

“If she gets back,” George muttered darkly. “God knows where she is, probably lying low until we leave town.”

“That’s a good idea, Jemma,” her mother replied brightly, ignoring him. “We’ll do that, won’t we, George?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” George agreed, somewhat unenthusiastically, his mind obviously still on the Charlotte situation. Jemma felt a little deflated by his reaction, momentarily experiencing a familiar pang of middle-child syndrome, always being the one overlooked while the other two got all the attention – even when she achieved but they behaved badly. She felt Fitz watching her and glanced at him. She was rewarded with a reassuring smile and a wink. She knew without him even speaking what he was trying to communicate to her – that her father didn’t need to be enthusiastic going in, their work spoke for itself and he’d be impressed once he saw it. She took a deep breath.

“Okay then, Fitz, will you make sure Poppy stays in here, please?,” she requested. “The DWARFs seem to upset her.” She smiled as she watched Fitz settle Poppy on her bed in the corner with a toy, and startled herself with the fleeting thought that a man that took such good care of a dog would be an amazing father. Surely it was much too early for such ideas? They had only just started dating! She shook the unexpected image from her mind and turned to her parents, gesturing towards the door. “Come this way, then,” she said, leading the way out of the room. Fitz followed the Simmons’ family as they filed out of the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

“Now, we’ve arranged the study to look like a crime scene,” Jemma explained as they walked down the hall. “We thought it was the best way to show you how the DWARFs work. We have a CPR dummy to act as the body, and we’re going to use two DWARFs to analyse the information found at the crime scene.” She entered the study and turned as her parents positioned themselves dubiously around the dummy, drinks still in hand. Fitz moved towards the DWARF case, and hunkered down beside it. Opening it, he lifted out the controller. Jemma eagerly watched her parents’ faces, waiting for their reaction when they saw the DWARFs rise up out of the case…but it didn’t come. Instead they looked at each other in a confused fashion. Jemma turned to Fitz, only to see him frowning at the controller as he jabbed it with his finger, before staring into the case with a horrified expression.

“Fitz? What’s wrong?” Jemma felt a sudden panic grip her stomach.

He stared up at her. “They’re not working,” he said, his voice almost an octave higher than usual.

“What do you mean they’re not working?!”

“I mean nothing’s happening! They’re not responding, they’re not even powering on.”

Jemma rushed across the room to his side. “But they were working perfectly well when we left the house,” she cried as she reached the case. A glance at her parents’ told her they were looking at each other uncomfortably, and her heart sank as she realised that she had failed to impress them.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what to tell you, Jemma, they’re not working now,” he snapped.

“Well, what’s the problem then?” she snapped back.

Fitz lifted one of the drones. “If I knew that…” Fitz paused in the middle of what was obviously going to be a waspish retort, as he stared at the drone. “What the bloody hell?!”

Jemma knelt down beside him. “What is it?”

“This is wet! The DWARF is covered in some kind of liquid!”

“WHAT?!” Jemma squeaked. Fitz handed the drone to her, and she realised he was right, there was some sort of dark liquid leaking from the machine. Fitz lifted the other one out of the case.

“And this one too! They’re both wet!” he cried. He rose suddenly to his feet. “This was her!” he breathed, his eyes wide in shocked realisation. Jemma went cold. “She did this,” Fitz suddenly yelled. “She poured something over the DWARFs. She sabotaged our work, Jemma!”

Jemma closed her eyes briefly, somehow hoping that when she opened them again, she’d realise this was all some horrible nightmare. No such luck. The dripping wet drone was still in her hands, Fitz was in a fury beside her and her parents were staring at them both with horrified expressions on their faces. Poppy had started yapping in the kitchen, obviously troubled by the raised voices. She replaced the drone carefully into its case, and sniffed at the liquid on her hands.

“Tea,” she said quietly, feeling a strange sense of composure, almost as if she was outside herself observing all this. She glanced up at Fitz.

“What?” Fitz stared at her in angry confusion.

“She poured tea all over the DWARFs,” Jemma replied in what sounded like an absurdly calm voice even to herself. “She doesn’t even drink tea. She made it especially just to do this. I think it’s supposed to be some sort of message.” She suddenly broke into an inappropriate giggle.

“What, a message about the tea boy not getting above his station and staying where he belongs or something?” Fitz raged. “Why the hell are you laughing?! This isn’t funny, Jemma!”

“I know it’s not funny, Fitz,” Jemma hiccupped. “Laughter is an automatic physical response to stress, triggered by the fight-or-flight response. Pretty much the same as crying actually.”

“Wait a minute,” George declared, moving forward into the room in a manner that suggested he was ready to take charge of the situation. “I think everybody needs to calm down. I think emotions are running high. I know Charlotte has behaved despicably, but we don’t want to jump to conclusions here. It could have been an accident, something could have knocked over…”

“Knocked over and managed to open the case as well, before spilling directly onto the two DWARFs?” Jemma was somewhere between laughing and crying. She could hear the hysteria in her own voice. “Even though we don’t let containers of liquid anywhere near the DWARFs ever? We didn’t have any tea in here, Dad. And the DWARFs were functioning perfectly, and had been stored safely in their case, before we had gone into the kitchen where I had a fight with Charlotte, and then we went out for lunch. And now we’ve come back and they’re somehow covered in tea. You think that some mysterious floating cup of tea managed to spill onto the DWARFS, Dad, and has now mysteriously disappeared? I mean, if it was an accident, where is the cup that knocked over? And it was black tea no less, when both Fitz and I take it with milk.” Jemma hiccupped again.

Her mother groaned and put her hands over her face. Fitz had now sunk into a chair and was gazing at the DWARF in his hands in despair. Her father was standing in the middle of the room staring at Jemma in bewilderment.

“But…but that’s criminal damage!” he finally spluttered. “You’re saying that Charlotte did this, she destroyed your work?!”

Jemma almost felt sorry for her father as she saw the realisation sink in. “Yes, Dad, that’s exactly what I’m saying. And the worst thing is that the only part of this that actually surprises me is the complete lack of subtlety. I mean, did she think we wouldn’t know it was her? Or is petty revenge actually more important to her than being found out?”

“She thinks she can get away with it,” Fiona spoke up from her position at the back of the room, as she lifted her hands from her face. “She doesn’t care that we know it was her. It was as much revenge against your father for firing her as it was against you or Fitz. She’s showing us that she doesn’t care what we think, that she can do what she wants, and there’s nothing that we can do about it, not without her hitting back. She is an absolute child, and I don’t know what we’re going to do with her,” Fiona sighed, shaking her head and gripping the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

George turned to Fitz. “Fitz, what does this mean, son? For your contract with Shield I mean? Are they ruined or is it salvageable?”

Fitz stared at the case contemplatively. “I don’t think they’re ruined completely,” he said slowly. “I think they’re salvageable. Believe it or not, this is not the first time one of Hunter’s exes has poured liquid over one of my gadgets. He clearly has a type. Another girlfriend of his poured water over my Xbox. It fried the electronics, but the hard drive remained intact, so I was able to fix it…eventually. It’s a set back, it means more work. We spent the last month getting these two ready.”

“Yes, but most of that was the programming, Fitz,” Jemma replied hopefully. “Which, if you’re right, and the hard drive is still okay, we don’t have to do again. And we can continue on with the other DWARFs, just as we had planned. At least we’ll have those to show Coulson. And we now know that the DWARFs need to be waterproofed.”

Fitz shrugged despondently. “We don’t just need them to be ready for Coulson, Jemma. This is my PhD project as well, remember?”

“Yes, of course, I do, Fitz, but you only need one working prototype. You don’t need all seven to be ready for submission. And we can have several more ready in a month’s time.” She could see from the resigned nod he gave her that he was in no mood to be cheered up. “Look, I’m not saying that this isn’t a nightmare and that it doesn’t leave us with more work to do,” she went on. “But it’s not an absolute disaster, you’ll still get your PhD, and we can still have a number of prototypes ready for demonstration in June. She hasn’t won, Fitz,” she added quietly.

“No, she has not,” George added grimly. He was still standing in the middle of the room, still gripping his glass. “Fitz, I think you should report her to the police.”

Jemma physically started, Fitz’s head shot up and Fiona gave a little gasp as they all stared at George.

“George!!” Fiona exclaimed in horror.

“Well, it’s like you said, Fiona,” he snapped irritably. “She has no understanding of consequences, because she never had to face any. It’s time she did. What she did here was a crime. She wilfully destroyed Fitz and Jemma’s work, and she could have ruined both their academic and professional careers by this action. She needs to be punished for that, she needs to learn that she cannot go around doing things like this. I have no desire to see my daughter on trial in courtroom, but if that’s what it takes for her to realise that this kind of behaviour is absolutely inexcusable…” He took a breath and threw back his whiskey.

Fiona likewise gulped down her sherry, before putting the glass down on a shelf beside her, and playing with her necklace in an agitated fashion. Jemma stared at her father in shock, before glancing at Fitz to see his reaction. He met her eyes, his jaw working, something she had learned was the sign of some internal battle being waged in his head. She knew that Fitz was angry enough to go through with a criminal charge against Charlotte, but when she saw that his eyes were searching her face she realised that he was also worried about how she would feel about it. She wasn’t sure herself. She saw the sense in what her father was saying, and she wanted to see Charlotte suffer for what she had done, but the idea of this feud being settled by the law felt like a bridge too far for her. Fitz clearly didn’t know how to respond, so Jemma quickly made a decision.

“It doesn’t have to go to court,” she said, standing upright and facing her father. Everyone in the room looked at her. “Fitz should report her to the police, but he could drop the charges once the police have spoken to her. It’ll give her a bit of a scare, make her see how serious it is.” She turned to Fitz. “You can drop the charges in exchange for reimbursement for the damage done to the DWARFs, and for an agreement that she not do anything else to piss either you or me off ever again.” Fitz gazed back at her, before slowly nodding his agreement. They both turned to her father, waiting for his response. George nodded as well, before he looked round at Fiona.

“Yes, I think that’s a much better idea,” she agreed, releasing her necklace and folding her arms. “I know she doesn’t deserve such leniency but one does not ever want to see one’s daughter possess a criminal record. I mean, the shame of it! It would be reported in the press, for god’s sake, George, everyone would know. I think Jemma’s right, this will teach her a lesson.”

“Okay,” George agreed. “Then you should take your DWARFs down to the police station now, Fitz and show them the damage, file a report. I’m going to make a phone call to my solicitor, inform him of the situation,” he said as he lifted his phone out of his inside pocket. Fitz started to pack Sneezy and Grumpy back into their cases. Still unable to believe that it had all come to this, Jemma went to help him when she suddenly spied the night-night gun case and realised that she hadn’t gotten to demonstrate her dendrotoxin formula for her parents either. Feeling another sting of bitter disappointment, she reached for the case, only to exclaim in surprise as she lifted it up. Her parents and Fitz all froze in the midst of what they were doing and stared at her. She whipped round to face them with a growing feeling of horror. “It’s too light,” she whispered. Fitz leapt to his feet and rushed to her side, staring at the case as she snapped it open. Her stomach lurched and Fitz swore under his breath before clasping his hands behind his head.

“It’s empty!” she cried, looking up at her parents. “Oh my god, she took the gun! What the hell is she going to do with that?!”

“What?!” George crossed the room and stared into the gun case, as Fiona stayed frozen to the spot, her hand to her neck. “Right, that’s it!” George exploded. “We report her to the police and if they find a weapon on her when she’s arrested, on her own head be it.”

“She won’t have it on her,” Jemma shrieked. “The only reason she would have taken it is to destroy it as well, and she can’t destroy a gun, so she’s probably going throw it in the river or something. Oh my god!” She could feel her breath getting faster and shallower; she was starting to gasp and her heart felt like it was going to explode. Suddenly the warmth of Fitz’s hand was on her back, rubbing it soothingly, and it felt like a lifeline.

“Breathe, Jemma, breathe,” his voice caressed her ear. “You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. We can fix this. We’re a team, remember? Just take a deep breath.” She tried to take a breath, like he’d told her, but she couldn’t reach it. The panic took over and she was hyperventilating instead. The next thing she knew her mother was on her other side, wrapping another arm around her. Fitz let go of her as her mother led her to a chair, and lowered her down onto it.

“Fitz,” Fiona addressed him, “I have some Valium in my bag, which I’ve left out in the car. It’s a Louis Vuitton overnight bag, it’s in the boot. Would you be a dear and run out and fetch it for me? Have you got the car keys there, George?”

George threw him the keys and Fitz sped off. Jemma watched him go as she gripped the arms of the chair. She struggled to breathe deeply, her mother rubbing her upper arms and murmuring platitudes. Her father watched anxiously, jumping in every so often with a “you’re alright, Jem, there’s a good girl. Just take it easy, now, just breathe,” before eventually asking in desperation: “Would a brandy help her, Fiona?”

Fiona tutted and sighed. “Oh, for god’s sake, George! Alcohol isn’t the answer to everything. And she can’t even breathe, how is she supposed to drink?!”

“Well, how is she supposed to get a tablet down her either?!”

Jemma clutched her abdomen and tried to suck in a breath as she desperately prayed for Fitz to come back. She didn’t think she would last much longer with just her parents in the room.

 

Fitz ran out the front door and down the steps towards the Jaguar parked in the driveway, pressing the key fob as he ran. He raised the boot and grabbed both bags that were there, not having a clue what the hell a Louis Vuitton bag looked like. He slammed the boot shut and was about to run back into the house, when something caught his eye. The garage door was slightly open, and he could see something through the gap, lying on the ground. He raced back up the steps and through the door to the study, dropping the bags in the doorway. Breathless, he signalled frantically to George, who stared back at him in confusion. Fitz put his finger to his lips, nodding his head towards where Jemma was struggling to regain her breath. George followed him out of the room as Fiona started rifling through one of the bags for the Valium. Fitz led the way back out of the house and down the steps towards the garage door, pulling it up fully to reveal the scene to George. Charlotte’s BMW was parked inside, the door to the driver’s seat was lying open and Charlotte herself was lying on the ground beside her car. Her eyes were wide open and she wore a shocked expression on her face. The missing dendrotoxin gun was clasped in her right hand.

“Oh my god!” George cried in horror, as he rushed to her side. “Charlotte! Charlotte! My baby girl! Are you alright? Oh god, what’s happened to her?”

“She’s fine, George,” Fitz replied, unable to keep the glee out of his voice. “She’s completely paralysed, but it’ll wear off in a while. She’s only managed to go and shoot herself with the night-night gun!”


	14. First Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma tends to a paralysed Charlotte. Fitz makes a decision about what should happen next, and the family gather in the living room for a cup of tea. George makes an announcement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original draft of this chapter ended up being much too long, so I've now split it into two chapters. Don't worry, though, I'll be posting the next one tomorrow. Also, a little note about this chapter - the dendrotoxin gun works a little differently in this fic than it does in canon. Firstly, this one shoots pellets, not bullets, and secondly, although in canon the dendrotoxin appears to knock people out, for the purposes of this fic it doesn't make them lose consciousness, just paralyses them. Also, I apologise to any medical people who read this if I get anything wrong!

Fitz ran back into the house again, reaching the dining room just as Fiona was bending down with a glass of water to give Jemma a Valium. “Jemma, it’s alright,” he announced as he entered the room. “We’ve found the gun. And Charlotte.”

Fiona straightened up, glass and pill still in hand. “What? Where is she?”

“In the garage. She appears to have shot herself.”

“ _WHAT??_ ” Fiona screamed. He heard Jemma inhaling shakily and he moved to kneel beside her, putting his hand on her back again.

“It’s fine, really,” he replied in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, and not an inappropriately delighted one, as he looked up at Fiona. “She’ll be okay, she’s just paralysed. Temporarily. It’ll wear off, won’t it, Jemma?”

Jemma nodded as she pursed her lips to breath out slowly. “Takes…a…few…”

“Hours,” Fitz finished. “From when they’ve been shot. Don’t try to talk, Jemma.”

“Should…shouldn’t…be…any…ill….”

“Any ill effects, no, not really.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE _SHOT_ HERSELF?” Fiona shrieked, looking wildly from one to the other.

“Yes, how…how…?” Jemma frowned.

“Ssshhh, Jemma, don’t talk, just focus on breathing. The pellet’s in her foot, the gun must have somehow gone off accidentally while she was getting into the car. I think you were right, Jemma, it looks like she was going to take it somewhere and dump it.” He slowly rubbed her back up and down. “I’m afraid haven’t quite perfected the safety mechanism yet,” he went on, looking up at Fiona, “I haven’t really needed to because it’s still a work in progress and it’s only been me or Jemma who have been handling it.”

Fiona stared back at him for a moment before throwing the Valium into her own mouth, and knocking back the glass of water. Fitz blinked as he watched her. “Honestly, Mrs Simmons,” he continued, “Charlotte will be okay, she’ll probably just be a bit stiff and groggy afterwards, maybe a little bit light-headed. At the very worst, there may be some vomiting, depending on how she reacts to it. Jemma designed this stuff and she knows what she’s doing.” Fiona nodded in response, her hand nervously tapping the base of her throat. “Um… do you maybe want to get some blankets and a pillow to take out to Charlotte?” Fitz asked her, worried that her mother’s obvious anxiety wasn’t good for Jemma. “The only problem is that it’s quite cold in that garage, and we don’t know how long she’s been there.”

“Oh god, yes, right,” Fiona replied, rushing out of the room and away up the stairs.

“Hey,” Fitz murmured, turning back to Jemma. “How’re you feeling now? Any better?” 

Jemma nodded as she exhaled. She took another slow, deep breath, before inching forward on the chair, and standing up shakily. Fitz took her hand to steady her. “Hey, what are you doing?” he remonstrated gently. She pulled his hand around her, stepping into his embrace, and he wrapped his other arm around her back, holding her tightly as she rested her head against his chest. They stood like that for a moment and he listened to her breathing and heart rate begin to slow. Finally, she lifted her head and looked up at him.

“I want to see the results of my handiwork,” she whispered.

Grinning at her, Fitz released his hold on her, taking her hand instead and guiding her out of the room. He chuckled to himself as they walked out into the hall.

“What?” Jemma smiled at him.

“Oh, it’s just…” He chuckled again. “I’m sorry, but she shot herself in the foot! I can’t believe that she actually – literally - shot herself in the foot!”

Jemma snorted. “Don’t make me laugh, Fitz!” she warned. “I don’t have enough breath yet!”

“I’m just going to let Poppy out,” Fitz told her, as they stopped at the foot of the stairs. “She’s still barking, she’s in a bit of a state.”

“Oh yes, do!” Jemma agreed. “Poor Poppy!”

Fitz walked over to open the kitchen door and Poppy came racing out, sliding over the oak floor as she scarpered excitedly around Jemma’s feet. Holding onto to the banister, Jemma carefully bent down to pick her up, cradling the little dog to her as Fitz came back towards them. He scratched Poppy’s head, and then caressed the back of Jemma’s hair. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, lifting her face to look up at his, smiling into his eyes. He lowered his mouth onto hers, and kissed her softly while Poppy frantically licked both their faces until they broke apart laughing. A moment later, a flustered Fiona came down the stairs with an armful of blankets, and they followed her down the hall and out to the garage, Jemma clinging to Fitz’s arm. As they reached the garage, Fiona gave a little gasp when she saw Charlotte and hurried over to her, placing a pillow under her head and covering her with blankets. George was still staring down at Charlotte.

“Are you sure she’s going to be alright?” he asked. “She looks as if…well, as if…” Jemma moved to where her sister lay, and Fitz followed, offering her an arm for support as she lowered herself her knees, placing Poppy on the ground as she felt for Charlotte’s pulse. The dog darted over to lick Charlotte’s face.

“She’s fine, Dad,” Jemma assured him. “Her pulse is steady. She just can’t move, that’s all. Take that gun out of her hand, Fitz, it’s probably going to cramp when the dendrotoxin wears off.” He complied readily, emptying the gun and stuffing both it and the remaining pellets into the pocket of his jeans.

Jemma crawled on all fours, in her floral dress on the dusty concrete floor, towards Charlotte’s feet. She took the foot that the pellet had pierced in her hand, and removed the shoe to examine the wound, gently prodding the area around it. “Good. Nothing in her foot seems broken, although it will be badly bruised for a few days, and she might have a bit of a limp. I’ll need to take that pellet out now, while she’s still unable to move. They don’t penetrate as far as ordinary bullets, they really just break the skin so the dendrotoxin can be dispersed, so it’ll just be a minor wound. A few paper stitches should help seal it. I have a medical kit in my room with everything I need for that.”

Fitz watched her in awe. This was a new side of Jemma he had never seen before, Jemma in medical professional mode, calm and taking control in a crisis, even after suffering a panic attack. She was honestly the most amazing woman he had ever encountered in his life, and he couldn’t quite believe that she was his girlfriend. He wasn’t the only one who was impressed. Jemma’s parents were watching her in incredulity. They’d had no idea their daughter could do all this.

Jemma let go of Charlotte’s foot and crawled back up towards her head. She closed her sister’s eyes with her hand. Poppy lay beside Charlotte’s head, her little face resting on her paws as she whined softly at her immobile owner. “She hasn’t been blinking and it’s dusty in here, so her eyes are going to be irritated,” Jemma continued, as she lifted the hand that Charlotte had been holding the gun with and began massaging it. “I think I have some eye-drops in the house, I’ll give her those when she comes round. And she’ll need painkillers as well. We’ll get some water for her when she can move, but she’ll probably need a hot drink as well. Fitz, Dad, could you both lift her up a bit so we can get these blankets under her? She’ll catch a chill lying on this cement floor.”

Fitz and George obliged, rolling Charlotte over so Fiona and Jemma could lay some blankets on the floor underneath her. Jemma reached up for Fitz’s arm, and he pulled her gently to her feet. She brushed the dust off her pretty dress. “I’m going to go and fill a hot water bottle for her,” Jemma announced. “And I’ll bring back those all those things as well. I think I’ll take her blood pressure too, for the sake of our results. I have a monitor in my kit.”

“I’ll go, Jemma,” Fitz told her. “You should be taking it easy.”

“I’m fine, Fitz,” she replied. “Really. It’s okay, I know what I need and where everything is. You stay here in case she wakes up. She might be a bit disoriented.” She reached suddenly into his pocket, taking the night-night gun and pellets out. Fitz sucked in a breath and glanced in alarm towards her parents. George and Fiona were still staring at Charlotte however, and Jemma gestured towards them as she leaned into whisper in his ear. “And they will panic, so I need you to be here to calm things if I’m not back before then.” She left the garage, taking the gun with her. Fitz watched her leave, wondering how long it would be before they could be on their own again. As she disappeared into the house, he turned his attention back to her parents. Their panic seemed to have abated somewhat and they were now regarding their younger daughter in stunned curiosity.

“It’s incredible,” George exclaimed in wonder. “I mean, she’s completely stiff, she’s not moving at all. She’s not even blinking. You wouldn’t even think she was alive!”

“She has no reflexes,” Fiona added, shaking her head in astonishment. “She doesn’t respond when you touch her. Can she hear us?” she asked, looking at Fitz.

“Yes, there’s no reason why she can’t hear every word,” he replied brightly. “She’s paralysed, she’s not unconscious.”

“And she’s really okay?” Fiona asked him.

“Yes, really,” he assured her. “Jemma and I have both tested the dendrotoxin on ourselves – albeit not in this large a dose. But we were absolutely fine. That’s the whole point of the formula, it’s a safe, harmless way to incapacitate someone for a while. She’ll probably have more ill effects from lying on a garage floor for a few hours, than from the drug itself.”

“It’s incredible,” George said again, shaking his head. “And Jemma made this?”

“Yeah,” Fitz smiled at them both. “Jemma made this. I told you your daughter was clever.”

“She really is,” Fiona declared in amazement. “It’s astonishing!”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to see your drones in action, Fitz,” George said grimly. “Believe me when I tell you that this one here will pay for that.” He nodded his head at Charlotte.

Fitz put his finger to his lips and gestured to George and Fiona to step outside the garage. They followed him out curiously, and Poppy leapt up to trot after them. He turned to them both in the driveway, Poppy coming to a halt beside him and looking up at him expectantly. “You know those consequences you were talking about, George?” he asked quietly. “You said that Charlotte needed to face some for what she’d done? Well, I think this was it. She accidentally shot herself with a gun and then she was lying on that garage floor unable to move for who knows how long – at least two hours because that’s how long it’s been since Jemma and I got back from lunch. She was probably terrified. I think this was the scare she needed. I won’t report her to the police, I don’t think Jemma wants that, and I don’t think you do either. If Charlotte reimburses us for the damage and promises to stop this vendetta of hers, then I think we can let it go.”

Both of Jemma’s parents stared at him open-mouthed. “That’s incredibly magnanimous of you, Fitz,” Fiona eventually stuttered.

“Indeed,” George added soberly. “She’s caused serious damage to you, Fitz, why would you be so forgiving?”

Fitz took a breath. “Because, at the end of the day, she’s Jemma’s sister. And this whole thing has been so incredibly hard on Jemma, it’s really upset her. And I…I care about her and I don’t want to see her upset anymore. I just want the whole thing to be over, for Jemma’s sake. I’m letting it go for Jemma, not for Charlotte.” Fiona and George exchanged looks before turning back to Fitz. He shuffled awkwardly as they both regarded him in an odd way. Fiona looked as if she was about to cry and George was smiling at him as if he had just given the right answer to a very important question. Poppy stood on her hind legs to scrabble at his ankles, and he bent down to pick her up.

“Okay, son,” George eventually said. “We’ll not get the police involved. But I still think Charlotte is going to need some other consequence than this before she can make amends. Just nothing that’s going to upset Jemma any further. You know, we can’t tell you, Fitz, how glad we are that Jemma met you.” Fiona nodded emphatically, still looking like she was about to cry. “I used to think that the best thing in life was being able to give your children whatever they wanted, being able to set them up for the future. But I’ve learned that it’s a much more satisfying thing to watch your children achieve what they want themselves, watch them create their own future. And to see them do so with the support of someone who cares about them so deeply…” Fiona sniffed audibly and Fitz glanced warily at her, praying that Jemma’s mum wouldn’t start crying in front of him. George shook his head, seemingly unable to continue, and Fitz suddenly panicked that Jemma’s dad would start crying as well. He looked away awkwardly, and for want of something else to do, he focused his attention on the dog, scratching her under the chin. “Well, let’s just say,” George continued, “that I’m not worried about Jemma’s future anymore, or about the choices she makes.”

Fitz was relieved he was spared the necessity of having to respond by the appearance of Jemma on the steps, armed with a hot water bottle and a bag slung across her body. “What are you all doing out here?” she called to them. “Why isn’t anyone inside watching Charlotte?”

“She’s fine, duck, we can see her from here,” George answered. “She’s still out yet.”

“She hasn’t moved, Jemma,” her mother said in wonder, as they moved back towards the garage. “Your drug is incredible, darling.”

“Oh!” Jemma halted in her steps, taken aback by her mother’s compliment. “Um…thank you, Mum!” She blushed and ducked her head, as she rushed into the garage and over to Charlotte’s side. Fitz, George and Fiona followed and crowded around as Jemma tucked the hot water bottle in under Charlotte’s blankets, and began taking some things out of her bag. She moved around to Charlotte’s feet, and set to work removing the pellet, cleaning the area first with disinfectant, before gently removing the pellet with a sterile pair of tweezers, and then dabbing on antibiotic gel with a cotton bud. Finally she fixed paper stitches over the wound. She then took a tube of arnica gel out of her med kit, which she gently applied to the bruised skin around the wound.

“Jemma,” Fitz called softly. “She’s blinking. I think it’s beginning to wear off.”

Charlotte’s hand suddenly twitched, and then one of her legs jerked. She groaned then, and tried to lift her head.

“Easy, easy, easy,” Jemma gently remonstrated with her. “Don’t try to get up just yet, you’ve been paralysed for a couple of hours. Just wriggle your fingers and toes for a little while first, until you begin to get the movement back in them. Your left foot is going to hurt when you do that because you have a wound there. But don’t worry, there’s no serious damage done, it’ll just be sore for a while.” Charlotte groaned again, but followed Jemma’s instructions meekly, hissing in pain as she tried to wriggle the toes on her left foot. Jemma made a sympathetic noise. “Yeah, I’ll give you some codeine for that in a minute,” she said. “Now, very gently, start trying to move your wrists and ankles, just circling them.” Charlotte complied, and Jemma nodded in approval. “Okay. Charlotte, are your eyes sore? Try to gently nod your head, if they are.” Charlotte nodded as much as she could against the pillow. “Yeah, I thought so. I’m going to give some eye drops to help with that while you’re still lying down. Try not to blink. In the meantime, try and bend your knees.” Jemma applied Charlotte’s eye drops whilst Charlotte slowly and stiffly pulled each of her legs into a bent position. “Alright, now,” Jemma said briskly. “Mum, Dad, could you help Charlotte up into a sitting position? I’m going to give her some water and painkillers.”

She looked up at Fitz, as her parents moved into position and began hoisting a groaning Charlotte up. “Will you do me a favour, babe?” Fitz nodded, putting Poppy down and resting his hands on his knees as he bent forward to listen to her instructions. “Will you make some tea? Charlotte doesn’t normally drink it, but she needs something warm inside her, and a bit of sugar in it wouldn’t hurt either. Also…I’m absolutely gasping for one myself.”

“Of course,” Fitz acquiesced. “Fiona, George? Would you both like some tea as well?”

“Oh, Fitz, that would be wonderful, you’re a lifesaver,” Fiona sighed.

“Smashing, lad,” George agreed.

 

Fitz brought the tea tray into the living room where the Simmonses had helped Charlotte from the garage onto the couch. She was shivering, still wrapped in a blanket and clutching the hot water bottle to herself, while Poppy pawed at her leg, whining to get up. He sat the tray down on the coffee table, and poured a cup for Charlotte, adding first one sugar lump, and then another when Jemma gave him a nod for more. Charlotte took it in shaking hands and began to sip, whilst Fitz poured a cup for Jemma – no sugar, and a drop of milk, just the way she liked it. She smiled at him as he handed it to her, and he marvelled about the fact that he had spent his teenage years being so sick of making tea in his mum’s café, and now he felt like he would be happy to make tea for Jemma for the rest of his life. Fiona bent over the tray beside him, pouring out tea for herself and George. Fitz started in alarm as she squeezed his shoulder before standing up to pass the cup to her husband. There was a moment of everyone slurping and sighing their satisfaction, before their cups clinked back onto their saucers.

“That’s a fine cup of tea, Fitz,” George said.

“Doesn’t he make the best tea?” Jemma purred.

“Absolutely lovely,” Fiona agreed.

“Mmmmm,” Charlotte hummed.

George fixed Charlotte with a stern glance, and Fitz felt like he could do with that whiskey Jemma had promised him now, instead of the tea he had in his hand. He backed away into an armchair in the corner of the room, and Poppy jumped up beside him, nestling down into his lap. Fitz began to stroke the dog to keep her calm, whilst George began to remonstrate with his youngest daughter.

“I would say that I am disappointed in you, Charlotte,” he began. “But that doesn’t even begin to cover it. Shocked, horrified, appalled and absolutely livid at your behaviour is much closer to it, and even that is letting you off easy. How dare you?! How dare you sabotage your sister and Fitz’s designs that they’ve worked so hard on, that are not only their PhD projects, but their ticket to having the job of their dreams?! Not only that, Charlotte, but these are important scientific innovations as well. And how dare you threaten and blackmail Fitz, and tell us heinous lies about him and his friend and about your sister, no less? What you have done Charlotte is disgusting and abhorrent, and it breaks my heart that my baby girl could be so callous. It breaks my heart that we appear to have brought you up to believe that your own whims are more important than treating people with consideration and respect, or just common decency.”

George paused and sucked the spittle that had gathered at the corner of his lips back into his mouth, before taking a sip of tea. His face was red, and Charlotte’s looked almost green as she stared down at the floor. Jemma was no longer hovering over her sister, but had perched herself on the other end of the sofa, and was anxiously twisting her cup around in its saucer. Fiona was beside George, glaring sternly at her youngest child, her cup and saucer in her left hand, whilst the right clutched her left forearm. Poppy whined again, and Fitz gently massaged her tiny rump, to try and calm her.

“We’ve obviously brought you up wrongly,” George continued. “But I don’t believe it’s too late to try and rectify our mistake. Not while you’re living under my roof, and dependent upon my money. Today I told Fitz here that he should report you to the police for damaging his property, that he should actually bring criminal charges against you.”

Charlotte’s head shot up and she stared wide-eyed at her father, before glancing fearfully at Fitz. Fitz avoided looking at her as he continued to pet the dog.

“However, Fitz very generously decided not to do that,” George continued. Fitz could feel the waves of relief emanating from Charlotte. “Something he decided upon, by the way, for your sister’s sake and not for yours.”

He felt Jemma’s gaze upon him at that, and lifted his head to be greeted by her warm honey eyes melting into his. There was a promise in her look, and he blushed and smiled to himself, turning his attention back to the dog as he tried not to think about how she might thank him later.

“But I don’t think that you should be let off that easy,” George went on. “For a start, you’re going to have to pay Fitz and Jemma whatever they decide you owe them for the damage you did to their drones. Out of your own pocket, mind you. I’m not paying this for you. Apart from that, Fitz thinks that being paralysed by his gun should be punishment enough for you, but punishment is only half the story. I need to know that you have learned your lesson, and I don’t believe that you will, not until you have had to work for something yourself, until you know the value of hard graft.” He took a deep breath, and Charlotte looked at him apprehensively. Fitz could see Jemma and Fiona exchanging puzzled looks as they waited to hear what he was going to say.

“That’s why I’m cutting you off, Charlotte,” George announced.


	15. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George tells Charlotte that he's cutting her off. Fitz comes up with a plan that suits everyone. Charlotte has something to say to Fitz and Jemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, this is the end of the story. There is one more chapter to come, which is an epilogue. I will hopefully be posting it before the end of the week.

Fitz’s mouth dropped open. Charlotte let out a little cry of shock; Fiona and Jemma both audibly exhaled at the same time.

“I’m not giving you any more money,” George told her. “And you can’t live in this house any more. From now on, you have to make your own way in the world. You have to find your own job and your own place to live, you have to feed and clothe yourself and pay all your bills yourself.”

“Daddy, no!” Charlotte cried in horror. “You can’t make me do this!”

“Yes, I can and I will,” George replied evenly. “I should have done it years ago. And if you do this to my satisfaction, then in a year from now, I will not disinherit you. On the other hand, if you come to me looking for money before the year is up, I am changing my will to make sure all the money goes to Jemma and Thomas.”

Fitz and Jemma looked at each other in astonishment. Charlotte began to cry. She turned to her mother, who was now calmly sipping her tea.

“Mummy, please!” she pleaded. “Tell him he can’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Charlotte.” Fiona’s voice wavered slightly. “It is harsh I know, but it is better than a criminal conviction, and your actions here have been nothing short of criminal, make no mistake about that. Your father’s right, you need to learn that you cannot behave in a reprehensible manner just because you have money. And the only way that you will learn that is if you no longer have money to fall back on. Maybe that will teach you to have some compassion or empathy.”

“But where am I supposed to live?!” Charlotte shrieked. “And how am I supposed to get a job, I have no experience or qualifications!”

“Well, you have plenty of friends, don’t you?” George answered. “You’re always going on about them, I’m sure some of them can put you up for a while. Your boyfriend is the heir to a billion pound fortune, he must have somewhere you can stay.”

“Well, he’s hardly going to want anything to do with me now,” Charlotte snapped. “Not when I’m homeless and have no money.”

“In that case, you’re better off without him then,” George retorted. “You don’t want to be with someone who only wants your money, Charlotte. That’s no kind of relationship at all. This morning your sister told me that she would rather live without my money than to stay in contact with a family that believed Fitz to be the extortionist you tried to claim he was. You would never have said that about Jonathan, because you believe that your inheritance is all you are worth to him. Jemma knows that she’s worth much more than that to Fitz. This is why I’m doing this, Charlotte, because I want you to achieve something on your own, to believe in your own worth, to think that there are more important things in life than finding a rich husband.”

Fiona gazed at her husband with something like shame and sadness in her expression, before she cleared her throat and spoke. “He’s right, Charlotte. I have taught you wrongly.” Charlotte reacted like her mother had just slapped her. “It was me who pushed you towards thinking your life should revolve around wealthy men, because that’s the way I was raised,” Fiona continued. “I never had a job, or found my own place to live, or made my own money. I always relied on my parents, and then on your father. But I think about how it used to worry me that your sister spent all her youth studying, and her entire adult life so far stuck in a lab,” she said, turning tear-filled eyes towards her eldest daughter, “and now I look at her and she’s created a formula that completely paralyses people and it astounds me that my daughter can do that.” Jemma’s struggle to contain her emotions was playing out over her beautiful features in a way that clutched at Fitz’s heart. Charlotte looked as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

It must tough, Fitz pondered, to spend so many years being the favoured child and now have to sit and hear your parents talk about how ashamed they are of you and how proud they are of the sibling that nobody ever really took much notice of. Charlotte looked like her whole world was falling down around her, but Fitz couldn’t feel any sympathy for her. Instead he felt a little bit of anger towards Fiona that this speech was so long overdue. How she hadn’t spent the entirety of Jemma’s life boasting about her to everyone she knew, just like his mum did with him, Fitz would never know. Jemma was spectacular, and it was about time that her mother recognised this fact. He snuck a glance at George’s face and was gratified to see regret and sorrow there. He knew his middle child had been sorely overlooked.

“And now she’s off to America to work for a big company,” Fiona continued, smiling at Jemma through her tears, “and I’m just so incredibly proud of her…and so ashamed that I had absolutely nothing to do with that. She did it all herself. All I ever did was try to dissuade her from it, because I thought she was harming her chances of meeting someone important. It never occurred to me that Jemma’s work was important, or that she was far more impressive than any of these puffed up, entitled little arseholes I kept trying to foist upon my clever and talented daughter.”

Fiona gave a little sob, and covered her eyes with her hands as she turned away from everyone, her cup and saucer shaking in her hand. George placed a hand on her shoulder. Jemma sniffed and lowered her head, playing with her teacup again. Fitz wanted to hug her, but he contented himself with cuddling Poppy instead. He noticed Charlotte staring down at the floor, her hair covering her face, but Fitz could see the teardrops falling onto the side of her saucer.

In a second, Fiona had composed herself again like the society lady she was, and turned back to Charlotte, wiping her cheeks with the back of her thumb. “I want you to learn how to do that, Charlotte,” she continued, her voice trembling. “I don’t expect you to become a scientist or anything like that, but I want you to work towards something, to achieve something for yourself. I don’t care what it is, it doesn’t have to be anything big or important. As long as it’s something that makes you happy, something that you care about, the way Jemma cares about her work, then I’ll be very content with that.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” Charlotte cried, lifting red-rimmed, pleading eyes to her mother. Fitz almost felt sorry for her when he saw the panic there. Almost.

“Well,” George said, “the first step is to find yourself a job. And I do believe that there’s an opening in your favourite coffee shop coming up in a couple of months’ time,” he said as he glanced at Fitz.

The schadenfreude that Fitz experienced at the thought of Charlotte having to wipe tables and make complicated coffees for belligerent customers was a feeling that would stay with him for a long, long time.

“I can’t work there!” Charlotte screeched in horror. “Everyone from your company goes there, they’ll all see me! Plus,” she said, her eyes flicking to Fitz before looking away in mortification, “I don’t know how to make coffees.”

“I doubt that will matter,” Jemma commented sardonically, clearly having seen a flaw in this plan. “The manager Graham will be only too happy to give you a job, knowing whose daughter you are.”

“Is that so?” George’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah,” Fitz spoke up, as he realised what Jemma was getting at. “And it won’t be too bad, Charlotte, he’ll let you do what you want, let you come and go as you please. It’ll not really be like having a job at all.” His eyes flickered towards George, who was frowning thoughtfully at his words. Fitz and Jemma exchanged conspiratorial looks. The coffee shop job would end up being far too easy for Charlotte, and she wouldn’t learn anything from it.

“Well, maybe that’s not the best place for you then,” George admitted, turning back to Charlotte. “You’ll just have to look in the papers or the job centre, just like everyone else. And fill out application forms and go to interviews…”Charlotte gaped at him in horror.

Fitz was finding this incredibly satisfying, but at the same time a notion was brewing in his head. He had a solution for Charlotte, but he wasn’t sure that he should give it to her. On the one hand, it would make things very easy for her in the short term. However, in the long term...well, he knew from experience that the hard work, discipline and rigid attention to details involved might just be exactly what Charlotte needed to learn. And he also had a feeling that if Charlotte should flounder in her quest for self-actualisation - which was more than likely, given her lack of resourcefulness or capability - then it would be more than Jemma’s compassionate nerve could stand, despite how angry she was right now. Jemma was a care-giver, a fixer – it was hard-wired into her. Her instinctive need to look after Charlotte in the garage had proven that. Fitz wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand by and watch her younger sister struggle to make her way in the world. That decided him.

“I have an idea,” Fitz put in. Everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, Charlotte’s right, it’s going to be really difficult for her to get a job without experience. And she’s a bit too old for anyone to be happy training her from scratch, like they would a school-leaver.” Charlotte was staring at him in horrified anticipation of what he might suggest, and Fitz couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit thrilled at the amount of power he had over her fate right now. “But…” he deliberately paused for a moment, stroking Poppy as he enjoyed feeling just a little bit like a Bond villain, “if Charlotte was perhaps willing to move to Glasgow for a while, a few months even…” Charlotte’s face rearranged itself into an expression of shock, George and Fiona looked at him with interest, and Jemma’s eyes danced and she bit her lip as she watched him. Fitz glanced around them all for a moment before continuing. “I’m sure my mum would be happy to train Charlotte in her tea house. She has a training course she puts all her staff through, it’s based on traditional Victorian service. It’s hard work, there’s a lot of polishing silver and stuff like that…” Charlotte gawked at him like he was burning all her most precious belongings in front of her.

“And you’ll have to wear a traditional Victorian maid’s uniform, of course. My mum insists upon it.” Fitz glanced at Jemma, who had put her hand over her mouth and focused her eyes on the floor in front of her in an attempt not to laugh. “But the plus side is you don’t have to apply for the job, you’ll have somewhere to live because my mum has a room above the cafe she can rent to you, and nobody will know who you are, so you don’t have to worry about that,” he went on. “My mum is kind, but she has really high standards of service, so she’s firm with her staff,” he said, looking at George. “She’ll treat Charlotte fairly, but she’ll not let her away with not showing up to work on time, or not pulling her weight, or being rude to the customers. And then with that kind of experience and training, it will be much easier for Charlotte to come back to London, if she wants and get a job herself.”

Charlotte was completely speechless now. She shook her head and stared at her father imploringly, begging him with her eyes not to agree to this.

“But why would your mother take Charlotte on?” George asked him.

“She’ll do it for Jemma,” Fitz replied confidently. “She’s fond of Jemma and she knows how important she is to me. She’d be happy to help a member of Jemma’s family.”

“Well, that sounds wonderful,” Fiona enthused. “If you’ll talk to your mother, Fitz, and see if she would be willing to train Charlotte…”

“Do I get a say in this?” Charlotte squeaked indignantly.

“Absolutely, you get a say,” George said, turning to her. “You’re an adult, Charlotte, you can make your own decisions. If you would prefer to not go to take this lifeline that Fitz is throwing you here and go to Glasgow, where, if Mrs Fitz agrees, you’ll have a job and somewhere to live waiting for you, then by all means - go out and find a job yourself, and somewhere to live. And bear in mind that I will be contacting everyone I know in the corporate world, asking them not to hire you, because I want you to prove that you can do this yourself, without any favours from my friends or your friends’ parents. And also bear in mind that Fitz has generously agreed not to press criminal charges, a gesture that he has every right to rescind at any moment, if perhaps it seemed like you were not intent on atoning for your wrongs. And like I said, you’ll still need to pay him and Jemma for the damage you caused. But it’s entirely up to you. Your choice.”

Fitz could see on Charlotte’s face the exact moment in which she realised that she was utterly defeated. She stared around the room at all the faces watching her, before she sank heavily back into the couch. “Okay, I’ll go to Glasgow then,” she said flatly.

“Right, well, that’s settled,” George replied, clapping his hands together. “Fitz, do you want to give your mother a call and talk to her about this? Let her know that we would be very, very grateful if she could do this for Charlotte, and I, personally, would very definitely owe her one. Also, if you and Jemma would like to join Fiona and myself for dinner tonight, I’ll make some restaurant reservations.” He looked questioningly at each of them, and Fitz and Jemma glanced at each other before happily nodding their acceptance.

“We’d love to, Dad, that would be lovely, thank you,” Jemma beamed.

“Yes, thank you, George, that would be great,” Fitz agreed. Fiona smiled warmly at both of them. Charlotte’s mouth fell open as it registered with her that she wasn’t invited, and she despondently sank even deeper into the sofa.

“What about Poppy?” Jemma said anxiously, glancing at the little animal who had gone to sleep curled up on Fitz’s knee. “Who’s going to look after her if Charlotte goes to Glasgow and I go to New York?”

“Charlotte can bring Poppy to Glasgow with her,” Fitz answered. Charlotte frowned at the dog, seemingly unhappy at the sudden realisation that she would have sole responsibility for her pet when Jemma wasn’t there. “My mum loves dogs,” Fitz continued, meeting Jemma’s eyes. “Absolutely loves them. In fact she’s been thinking of getting one herself. Just a small one, she says, nothing too big.”

Jemma cocked her head to one side and looked at Fitz. “Is that so?” she asked, before looking significantly at Charlotte.

“Yes,” Fitz replied, as he glanced at Charlotte himself. An expression passed over her face as if a solution to a problem had presented itself, and she pulled herself up and sat forward on the sofa, leaning her elbows on her knees.

“Maybe,” she began hesitantly, meeting Fitz’s eyes, “maybe your mum might like to keep Poppy? You and Jemma are probably going to be moving to New York and I won’t be able to look after her properly if I’m working in your mum’s café all the time and living in a room above it. And…I might not be able to… afford to. It might be the best thing for Poppy if your mum wanted to take her?” Fitz and Jemma exchanged satisfied glances.

Fitz nodded. “I’m sure she would love Poppy, Charlotte. If that’s what you want to do, I’ll ask her when I talk to her on the phone.” Jemma flashed him a dazzling smile. It was beginning to look like little Poppy might be going to a new home with a loving, attentive owner.

George and Fiona gave them both pleased nods. Clearly there was nobody who felt that Charlotte was quite responsible enough to be a dog owner. Fiona then gestured apologetically at the drone cases. “We’ll have to arrange to come back and see how your drones work, when you get the new ones ready,” she said. “I’m so very sorry that you weren’t able to show us today. You both must have been very excited to do so, after all your hard work.” She gave Charlotte a pointed look, and Charlotte lowered her head again.

“Oh!” Jemma cried suddenly. “The video! Fitz, we can show them the video!”

Charlotte’s head snapped up in horror and George frowned at Jemma.

“I mean, we can stop it before it gets to the part that frankly nobody wants to see,” Jemma continued. “But there’s about five minutes of footage where you can see Grumpy flying around the room and stopping to investigate various bits of trace evidence Fitz had planted for him, and the results are all on Fitz’s tablet, which he can show you then. It’s not the same as seeing it live in action, I admit, but you get the sense of how it works at least.”

“Oh well, yes, I mean, as long as it’s stopped at the…appropriate point,” George replied hesitantly, “I think we can have a look at that, don’t you, Fiona?”

Fiona nodded and smiled at Jemma. “Yes, I’d love to see it actually. The drone, I mean,” she added quickly, shaking her head. “Not anything else…on there.”

“Okay!” Jemma responded enthusiastically. “Go on into the living room and get settled, and I’ll get the camera out of my bag, and Fitz will set it up so that we can watch it on the TV. Fitz, will you grab your tablet as well, please?”

George and Fiona filed out of the room as Fitz gently lifted the sleeping Poppy off his knee and placed her on the chair beside him before standing up. Poppy stirred briefly, gave a contented sigh and snuggled down into the cushion. As Fitz and Jemma both grabbed their bags from where they sat beside the DWARF case, Charlotte stood up stiffly, shrugging off the blanket that was wrapped around her, and raising her left foot off the ground so that she didn’t put any weight on it. Fitz was aware of her hovering there awkwardly for a moment, but he ignored her as he delved into his bag, fishing about for his tablet. He noticed Jemma doing the same.

“Um…” They both turned around as Charlotte spoke. “I…I’m sorry,” she said in an embarrassed fashion, as if the word was unfamiliar and slightly humiliating to her. They both stared back at her, somewhat unprepared for this. An apology was really the least she could do, but Fitz hadn’t been expecting one, and by the look on her face, neither had Jemma.

“I really am,” Charlotte continued hesitantly. “I know that’s not enough, and I know that neither of you are going to forgive me, and I understand…”She trailed off and ducked her head as she met Jemma’s stony gaze. Then she lifted her head again, and took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say thank you. To both of you.” Fitz and Jemma exchanged surprised glances. “Thank you, Fitz, for arranging the job with your mum,” Charlotte went on, avoiding his eyes. “I know you hate me, and you have every right to. You could have thrown me to the wolves, you could have gone to the police, but instead… to hand me a job and a place to live…you didn’t have to do that, but it makes things a lot easier for me. It was… decent of you, Fitz. Very decent.”

“Well, Fitz is a very decent person,” Jemma replied caustically. “You would have realised that before now if you’d ever taken the time to get to know him, instead of trying to ruin his life. And you don’t deserve such kindness.”

“I know that,” Charlotte mumbled.

“No, you don’t deserve it,” Fitz added. “But I know Jemma, and despite everything you’ve done, you’re still her little sister and I know she’ll worry if you can’t get a job and a place to live.” He could have sworn Charlotte actually looked a little shamefaced at this. “Besides,” he continued, “even if you do get a job somewhere, between your attitude and your level or actual human skills, you’re not going to last one day. You need training, Charlotte. Not just in making coffee, but in how to be a person. Also, I wouldn’t thank me just yet. Wait until you start training with my mum, and see then if you think I’ve made things easier for you!”

Charlotte paled visibly at his words, and Jemma smirked as she turned her attention back to finding the video of Grumpy on Fitz’s camera. Charlotte watched her and then nervously took a step forward. “Um, Jemma?” Jemma lifted her head and gave her sister a questioning look. “Um, I just…I wanted to say thank you to you too.” Jemma jerked back as if Charlotte had slapped her. “For the way you looked after me, in the garage. I was completely conscious, I could hear everything. I had been there for so long, hours and hours, it felt like. And I was so cold, and I couldn’t move a muscle and it was awful, the worst thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I heard you and Fitz coming back and going into the house, and I heard Mum and Dad arriving, and I thought that nobody would ever find me, I thought I might die out there. It was terrifying, and I couldn’t even cry or scream or anything. And then when you came I expected you to be so angry at me, I expected you to be happy that I had accidentally paralysed myself, to laugh at me, maybe even to want to leave me there, but instead you were just so… kind. You were so kind, Jemma. It was…astonishing. And the way you closed my eyes, and took the gun out of my hand and massaged it and wrapped me in blankets and gave me the hot water bottle and tended my foot. And the way you spoke to me when I started to move, and then giving me the water and the tablets…I can’t remember the last time somebody looked after me like that, it was…”

Fitz stared in amazement as a tear actually began to roll down Charlotte’s face. _She responded to kindness?!_ Was this an entirely new phenomenon, or had these human feelings always been there, buried deep inside?

“You never exactly let anybody look after you before, Charlotte,” Jemma replied somewhat acerbically, but with a hint of something in her voice that suggested to Fitz that she was not unmoved by Charlotte’s change of heart. “Not me nor Alice or Mum. You were too busy bossing us about and demanding everything exactly as you wanted it.”

Charlotte wiped at her face. “I know,” she nodded. “I’ve been absolutely beastly, I know I have. I don’t even know how to explain it. I just…I thought that if I didn’t do any of the things I did, that you or Fitz would do something first and ruin everything for me. I really thought that you were out to get me. It all got out of hand, there was really no excuse for it. What I did was horrible, I was horrible. Which is why it was so amazing to me that you were so kind. Oh, and also, thank you both for the tea,” she sniffed, and Fitz and Jemma both looked at her in confusion. “I haven’t drunk tea in years,” Charlotte explained tearfully. “I didn’t even think I liked it, but that was the nicest cup of tea ever! It was exactly what I needed, it warmed me up and the sugar in it was perfect. It was such a good idea to give me the tea, so thank you for that, and thank you, Fitz, for making it. It was lovely.”

Unnsure of how to respond, Fitz glanced at Jemma, who gave him a bewildered shrug. He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, when you work for my mum, you’ll learn how to make it like that,” he replied awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. Charlotte nodded and actually smiled at him. He looked back at Jemma in alarm, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Okay,” Jemma said, stepping in to save him from any more awkward conversation with her sister. “Charlotte, the best thing for you now is to have a hot bath. That will warm you up and relax your muscles, which I’d say are very stiff and sore. Plus, you’re covered in dust. You go on upstairs and do that, while Fitz and I show Mum and Dad the video. And no, don’t worry,” she added, as Charlotte started to protest, “they won’t see any of you with Hunter. You can see Fitz put the camera down in the video, as you hear the key in the door. We’ll stop it at that part.” Charlotte hesitated for a moment, before giving her sister a weak but grateful smile. She turned around and trotted dutifully out of the room.

Fitz and Jemma turned to each other in astonishment. _“What. The. Fuck?!”_ Fitz whispered, as Jemma covered her mouth so that Charlotte wouldn’t hear her laugh. “Seriously, what just happened?! Did your sister actually just apologise to us, and then spend like five minutes thanking us for a cup of tea?!”

Jemma shook her head, half in disbelief, half in wry amusement. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself, but yeah, she did!”

“How the hell did we get to talking about _tea_?!” Fitz exclaimed. “I mean, she really went on about it. Do you think the tea melted the ice in her heart?!”

Jemma laughed heartily at that. “You know what,” she said seriously as her giggles subsided, “I don’t even think that’s far wrong. I think she was cold and miserable and scared and vulnerable and the tea was just really comforting to her. You know, made her feel warm and safe. The cup of tea you made me yesterday when I arrived at your flat all upset had much the same effect on me.” She tilted her head to one side and smirked coquettishly at him. “Maybe even more so, since it pretty much got you laid!”

It was Fitz’s turn to laugh heartily. “Well, I’ll have to remember that in future, won’t I?” he replied with a wink. “Remind me to thank my mum for teaching me how to make a proper cuppa! Actually, maybe she was right all along. Maybe a cup of tea really does make everything better!”

“You know what I think?” Jemma said, crossing the room and standing on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “I think that it’s you who makes everything better, Fitz. You do for me anyway. You’re my cup of tea,” she whispered as she smiled up at him.

“I would say that you’re mine,” he whispered back, grinning. “But honestly, you’re more like the finest single malt in the world, Jemma. You’re intoxicating!”

“Oh god, that was so cheesy!” she squealed, collapsing in giggles. Fitz laughed as he pulled her back in towards him.

“I know,” he chuckled softly, as he leant down to kiss her. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he murmured after they broke apart. “At the same time though…” he continued, as they moved to the door, “it’s been a long and tiring day, Jemma. I wouldn’t mind that actual whiskey now.”


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen months later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue is not even what I originally intended to write. It was initially supposed to be a series of conversations between various characters, but I made the mistake of starting off with my absolute favourite pair to write dialogue for, and I got carried away, and so the whole thing is now just a conversation between them. It's all dialogue and exposition, but I'm not even sorry because writing it made me so happy! Writing this epilogue has also made me realise that I really want to write a sequel to this fic about their life at Shield. However, I have another FS multi-chapter idea that I want to work on next, so I'm not going to write that sequel for a while, but I do intend to revisit this 'verse at some point.

“Do I really have to wear a kilt?”

“Yes, Hunter. You really have to wear a kilt.”

“Why? I’m not even Scottish.”

“I know, but I am, and I’m getting married, and Scotsmen wear kilts when they get married. It’s traditional. And you’re my best man, so you have to wear one too.”

“Isn’t there a law against Englishmen wearing kilts? Won’t I get pelted with stones or something?”

“Well, they would do that anyway, whether you were wearing a kilt or not,” Fitz replied wickedly, as he took a sip of his pint. “But I’m not getting married in Scotland, so I think you’ll be alright.”

“Ha ha ha,” Hunter retorted sarcastically, leaning forward to rest his arms on the bar. “I wish you were getting married in Scotland, at least then I wouldn’t look so stupid. I’m going to look a right idiot traipsing around Devon in a kilt with my London accent.”

“You won’t have to traipse around anywhere,” Fitz replied. “We’ll be in the Simmons’ garden the whole time. And you won’t look stupid. Everyone looks great in kilts.”

“Is it really just going to be a tea party? What kind of wedding reception is that?”

“Don’t worry, there’ll be alcohol as well. And the tea party is just in the afternoon. It’s a Victorian tea party, my mum’s doing the catering. We’ll have dinner and dancing later in the marquee.”

“When you say there’ll be alcohol, do you mean proper alcohol, or just like Pimm’s cocktails and that?” Hunter gestured at a dusty bottle of Pimm’s sitting behind the bar that looked like it had never been opened.

“There will be Pimm’s and champagne served at the tea party,” Fitz replied. Hunter sighed heavily. “And by special request of the groom, there will be beer as well.” Hunter perked up. “Although Jemma says you can’t have too much before your speech.”

“Listen,” Hunter replied, wagging his finger at Fitz, “my speech is going to blow your minds, no matter how much beer I’ve had. You guys will have no idea what hit you, there will be tears, laughter, thunderous applause…there may even be pyrotechnics. But if I’m going to stand up in a kilt in front of all those people, then I’m just saying, I’m going to need something more than a cup of tea in me.”

“You know, if this is too stressful for you, I can always ask Mack instead,” Fitz said slyly. “I’m sure Mack would be happy to wear a kilt. I think he’d look good in it too.”

“Well, of course he bloody would,” Hunter replied irritably. “Mack looks good in everything, the man’s a bloody Adonis! I don’t know why he’s working as an engineer at Shield, when he could be making a fortune as a model. And it’s not stressful, I want to be your best man, I was very happy when you asked me, but it’s just…”

“Just what, Hunter? What’s really bothering you?”

“What the hell do you think?! Jemma’s parents! I’m going to be best man at their oldest daughter’s wedding and they know that I banged their youngest daughter! On multiple occasions. Not to mention that the hell-beast herself will be there…”

“Wait, I can never tell - are you talking about Charlotte or Bobbi?”

“Nah, me and Bob are cool now. Her and Jemma becoming close was a good thing for us, because we actually had to talk about things, and I finally got closure. And I like Clint, I really do, and I’m really happy for them that they’re having a baby. It’s all good.” Hunter lifted his glass. “No, I was talking about Princess Bloody Charlotte.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that Charlotte’s changed a lot,” Fitz told him. “She’s not the same person she was at all.”

Hunter gave him a sceptical look and Fitz chuckled.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “she and I will never be close. Neither will her and Jemma, she’s not even going to be a bridesmaid, it’s just Skye. Skye’s more like a sister to Jemma than Charlotte is.” Fitz paused to take another drink, replacing the pint glass on the bar as he smacked his lips together. “I mean, Charlotte can still be quite abrasive sometimes,” he continued, placing his hands on the arms of the bar stool and leaning back on it. “She’s still high maintenance and she’s not exactly the most likeable person in the world. But she’s not childish anymore, she’s grown up a lot. Her time with my mum was the making of her. She hated being a waitress, absolutely hated it,” Fitz said, grinning broadly at the thought of it, “and my mum had a bit of a nightmare with her at times. I think my mum only persevered because she decided that I was going to marry Jemma even before I did! She knew Charlotte was going to be family at some stage. But she got there in the end with her. I think the experience was a real eye-opener for Charlotte in terms of what it’s like to serve coffee and wait tables for minimum wage, and have to deal with rude and aggressive customers – like she used to be. You know she’s started up her own business?”

“Yeah, Jemma mentioned that,” Hunter replied as he ran his finger up the condensation on the outside of his glass. “She’s training people, the way your mum trained her?”

“Yeah, she says that the experience made her realise that there’s bad service in a lot of places because the staff aren’t properly trained. It’s not the staff’s fault, the management often don’t have time to train them. So she’s decided to open up this agency in London, to train young people in service and so on, and then they hire them out to restaurants and bars and cafes. They’re all really highly trained, so it’s mostly high end places that place a great emphasis on good service who ask for them. So the business is doing well. My mum gave her a lot of advice when she was setting it up, and Charlotte went on a lot of training courses herself.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Hunter acknowledged. “I wouldn’t have thought she’d have it in her, to be honest.”

“No, me neither,” Fitz agreed. “She never seemed much interested in work. But she seems to be really passionate about it, it’s a real labour of love for her. She’s actually a much more tolerable person, now that she’s got something to channel all that destructive energy into. Also, she seems to be very happy with this new boyfriend of hers, Lincoln. He actually seems nice, believe it or not. And he’s not even uber-rich, he’s a medical student. A far cry from that prick Jonathan. Thank god he dumped her the minute he found out she might be disinherited, I would have flat out refused to have him at my wedding if those two were still together.”

“And how are things between you guys and her now?” Hunter asked.

“Cordial,” Fitz replied. “Polite. Still a little awkward, but friendly enough. Jemma takes an interest in Charlotte’s work, I think because it’s finally a level that they can connect on, but without things ever getting too personal. It’s kind of sad in a way, I suppose, that they’re not close, but at least now Jemma has Skye. By the way,” he added, as he leaned forward and lifted his glass again, “is that going to be awkward for you as well?” He sipped his beer as he watched Hunter’s face.

“What?” Hunter looked confused.

“Well, because we’re having a small wedding, apart from me and Jemma obviously, the wedding party basically just consists of you and Skye.”

“So?”

“So, you like her.”

“I do not!” Hunter spluttered.

“I think you do,” Fitz smirked.

“What the hell makes you think that?! I mean, okay, she’s ridiculously hot, but she’s annoying as hell, she’s got a smart mouth that one.”

“Ridiculously hot, hmmm? That’s an interesting turn of phrase.”

“Well, it’s just facts, isn’t it? I’m not blind.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think that. Yeah, she’s very pretty, but I don’t think she’s as beautiful as Jemma.”

“Fitz, you don’t think anyone’s as beautiful as Jemma. You don’t even really see other women, she’s the only one in the world for you. And Skye’s like a sister to you as well, so you wouldn’t see it. But completely objectively, yes, she is very hot. She’s gorgeous. But she’s frustrating.”

“I don’t find her frustrating. What is it that you find frustrating about her? Is it the fact that every time you two are in the same room you start sniping at each other? Because there’s a word for that. Three words actually. I believe the acronym is UST?”

“Oh, don’t even try to imply that there’s sexual tension or something going on there,” Hunter replied in disgust. “That’s not even…that’s not what it is.”

“I don’t know,” Fitz said airily, with a shrug. “You’re the one who finds her ‘gorgeous’ and ‘ridiculously hot’ and ‘frustrating’.”

Hunter let out a “Pffft,” and shook his head as he drank his beer.

Fitz shrugged. “All I’m saying, Hunter, is that we’ve had nights out where you and Skye were so engrossed in your verbal sparring that Jemma and I just left and you two didn’t even notice.”

“This is Jemma, isn’t it?” Hunter said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms with a suspicious look on his face. “This is all coming from her. She’s determined to fix me up with someone. I’m her pet project. She’s so bloody happy now that she’s getting married that she’s decided that single people can’t possibly be happy. Is this why she keeps trying to get me to drink less and to eat healthier as well?”

“She worries about you,” Fitz explained reasonably, “that’s why she’s so fixated on your lifestyle. If Skye’s her surrogate sister, then you’re her surrogate big brother, Hunter. You’re more a brother to her than that useless bastard in Germany, he hasn’t even seen her in over a year. I’m surprised he’s even coming to the wedding, really. So, yes, she wants you to be happy, and yes, I think she would love nothing more than for you and Skye to be happy together, especially after all the heartbreak both of you have been through.”

He smiled as he watched Hunter’s face. He knew that his best friend had a deep affection for the soon-to-be Mrs Fitz, and despite his apparent irritation at Jemma’s interference, Hunter was really quite moved that she was so concerned for his well-being.

“But I don’t think she would have gotten this idea, if it hadn’t been blatantly obvious that you’re actually into Skye,” Fitz continued remorselessly. “Even I can see it, and I’m normally pretty oblivious to this stuff.”

“Oh, you and Jemma think you’re so smart,” Hunter retorted. “But there are several factors that both of you have failed to take into account in this little equation of yours. First of all, whether I like Skye or not doesn’t even matter. Because she’s still in love with Trip.”

“Aha!” Fitz crowed in triumph. “And that’s why she’s frustrating, is it? Well, Trip lives in Puerto Rico, Hunter. He asked Skye to come with him, and she said no.”

“Well, of course she did, she’s the bloody heir to Shield, Fitz! She’s Coulson and May’s daughter, they’re grooming her to take over when they retire. She’s not going to just drop everything and run off to Puerto Rico with her boyfriend. And that’s another flaw in your little matchmaking scheme. The fact that Skye happens to be the daughter of the owners of the company we work for. And Coulson’s not just our boss, he’s also our friend. You and I go out drinking with him, for god’s sake.” He took a drink. “Also, I’m terrified of her mother.”

“Everyone’s terrified of May. Even Coulson. And Coulson’s alright, he didn’t stop Trip from dating her, did he? Or Ward before him.”

“And here we arrive at problem number 3. Skye has already dated the previous two guys that had my job. Both of which are much more impressive than me. And both relationships ended pretty badly. Ward turned out to be a corporate spy, and Trip got head-hunted for a new job in Puerto Rico. You really think she’s going to believe that third time’s the charm? This job is pretty cursed for her. Also…I really like Trip. He trained me, for god’s sake, we got really close in those few months. He’s basically the nicest guy I’ve ever met - apart from you, of course. I was actually excited when I found out he was coming to the wedding. How would he feel if I was to start dating his ex-girlfriend?”

“Which is why I asked you if it was awkward being in the wedding with her,” Fitz pointed out.

Hunter snorted. “I’m the best man at a wedding where not only have I slept with the bride’s sister, and her whole family know it. As well as that my pregnant ex-wife and her new husband are going to be guests, and I’m going to be wearing a fucking kilt, and you think the thing that I feel awkward about is that I fancy the bridesmaid, who is not only is my boss’ daughter, but my mate’s ex-girlfriend, and he will also be at the wedding, where they’re clearly going to hook up again?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Fitz nodded, calmly sipping his drink.

Hunter grasped his pint and slumped down in defeat. “Then you’d be right,” he sighed heavily.

Fitz allowed himself a victorious little smile. “Look, all I’m saying, Hunter, is that you just never know what’s going to happen in life. Sometimes things can seem really bad, but then life has this weird way of working out for the best. I mean, look at me, I was just minding my own business in work one day, then to my despair my worst customer walks in, and I thought my day was ruined. But it just so happened that she was there to meet her sister, who turned out to be the love of my fucking life. And even then, it took me so long to tell her that because Charlotte was holding me to ransom, and I didn’t know how I was going to get out of that and I was desperate and I was miserable, but I knew what I wanted. I wanted Jemma and I also wanted this job. And when I kept those things in mind, I never gave up and everything just seemed to resolve itself. I’m not saying you and Skye are meant to be together - maybe Trip will come back so they can be together, or maybe she’ll move on with someone else, not you. Maybe you’ll meet someone else, who knows? The point is, you know what you want. You want love, you want to be married again. I just don’t think that you should give up on that because of what happened with Bobbi, or because the girl you like now is in love with someone else.”

Hunter gazed pensively at him as Fitz paused to take a drink.

“But I do think that the first step is admitting that you have feelings for Skye,” Fitz continued, after wetting his mouth, “at least to yourself, because it’s whenever you don’t admit that there’s a problem that you make bad decisions. That’s how Charlotte happened. And, let’s face it, not admitting that you have a crush on the boss’ daughter, and instead constantly clashing with her, could end up getting you into trouble at work, never mind breaking your heart. Also, if nothing’s going to happen with Skye, then you need to accept that and move on. You spent two years drinking yourself into a stupor and shagging everything that moved because you couldn’t accept that you and Bobbi were over.”

Hunter contemplated the beer in his glass as he swirled it aound. Then he lifted his head and looked around the bar. “Is this why you suggested we come back here for a drink?” he asked. “So that I would remember what my life used to be like before Shield?”

Fitz shrugged. “I thought it wouldn’t hurt. I dunno, I thought that it would do us both good to come back here and think about how far we’ve come. Spending our free nights in this dump seems like a lifetime ago now, doesn’t it? I mean, less than two years ago I was still a single student who worked in a coffee shop and you were a bouncer who picked up crazy women at the club. Now, I’m getting married and my designs are being used by the US government - not to mention that Biosim are developing them for use in hospitals all over the world - and you’re running the weapons’ testing department of a big corporation, and hanging out with the owner. I just thought we should drink to that.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, smiling. He clinked his glass against Fitz’s. “Cheers, mate. To new beginnings.” They both took a drink of their beer. “Hey, do you remember coming back from the coffee shop that day and telling me that you’d just met the girl you were going to marry?” Hunter asked as he put his glass down. “I scoffed at you, I’m sorry about that. I can’t believe that you turned out to be right.”

Fitz laughed. “Yeah, it probably sounded pretty insane. But I don’t know, I can’t explain it, I just…knew. From the minute I saw her, I knew she was the one for me. And weirdly, even my mum knew when she met Jemma in Glasgow like a year before that. It’s so strange. Scientifically, it doesn’t make any sense, but…here we are. I’m marrying her in four days’ time.”

Hunter shook his head in amazement. “Well, if nothing else gives me hope, you two do. I’m not even kidding, it sounds so corny, but…you and Jemma made me believe in love again.”

Fitz gaped at him for a moment and then started to laugh as an expression of horror crossed Hunter’s face and he dropped his head down onto the bar. “Oh my god!” he groaned. “What the hell is happening to me? I must be getting soft in my old age, I seriously just had a chick flick moment!” Fitz threw his head back and laughed gleefully. Hunter lifted his head again. “Please, take me out of my misery,” he begged. “Talk to me about manly things. Football and cars and boxing and pulling birds, that sort of thing. I need an injection of testosterone!”

“Jemma would be the one to see about that, she’s the biochemist after all,” Fitz replied. “But what I can provide is male company and a lot of beer. Or rather you’ve provided it yourself, since you’ve organised it. What time are we meeting the others at?”

“I said we’d all meet at the hotel at six,” Hunter said, looking at his watch. “Mack’s at the hotel now, he got in this morning. Trip’s flight was getting in this afternoon, so hopefully he should be there by the time we get back. Coulson is out sight-seeing with May at the minute, but he’d said he’d meet us in the bar. Also, I have warned everyone that just because they’re all American, does not mean that anybody is to refer to this a ‘bachelor party’. We’re in England now, this is a stag do.”

“Yeah, they all got the memo, Hunter,” Fitz responded drily. “Are you going to make them go for a Nandos as well? Should we all wear snap-backs and huaraches?”

“God no!” Hunter exclaimed. “This is going to be a classy do, mate. Jemma’s dad has hooked us up with entrance to a very exclusive private club. It has a pool and everything. I’ve told everyone that they need to dress smart. Jemma’s packed clothes for you.”

“You were in touch with Jemma’s dad?” Fitz asked in wonder. “I thought you were nervous about meeting him?”

“It was Jemma who spoke to him. I asked Jemma if her dad and brother would like to come to the stag night, and she said she’d speak to them, and she came back and said her her dad declined, but offered to put us on the guest list to this club if we wanted. I thought he probably didn’t want to come because I was organising it.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing to do with you,” Fitz replied. “Don’t forget, George is a billionaire, Hunter, he’s a man used to his comforts and set in his ways. He’s not one for going out much himself, and drinking with his son-in-law’s friends is definitely not his style. Also, like most CEOs, he’s a massive control-freak. George really doesn’t like to do anything he hasn’t organised himself, and he prefers entertaining at home. That’s why he’s arranged a golf game in Devon on Thursday for us all, and then the yacht party that night. And Jemma’s brother Thomas only arrives over from Berlin on Thursday. He’s away again on Sunday morning, after the wedding – like I say, he’s not very interested in Jemma’s life.”

“I wonder how the ladies are getting on with their spa day?” Hunter mused.

“You mean Skye?”

“Shut up, Fitz!”

Fitz sniggered. “I’m kidding, Hunter! I haven’t heard from Jemma since this morning, which means it must be going well. Jemma and Skye were having their dresses fitted this morning, along with a champagne breakfast and then they went to the spa to meet my mum, Jemma’s mum, Bobbi, May and Alice, the Simmons’ housekeeper. They’re going out for dinner tonight. It’s supposed to be an early night, but I have a feeling that Jemma and Skye will probably hit the town after that.”

“Yeah, I think actually they’re going to come and meet us at the club later.”

Fitz felt the smile almost breaking his face at this.

“Yeah, I knew there was only so long you’d be able to spend in male company before you’d start missing your fiancée again,” Hunter grinned as he watched at Fitz’s expression. “You don’t think Charlotte will come with them as well though?”

Fitz shrugged. “Probably not. It’s not the most comfortable relationship – with alcohol taken, it could get messy. The last thing Jemma wants during her wedding festivities is any drama with Charlotte.” He took a sip of his pint and sighed. “I don’t know. Sometimes I’m really glad I don’t have any siblings. I always thought I was lonely growing up because I was an only child, but Jemma was lonely growing up as well, even though she has a brother and sister. And now she’s getting married, and her siblings are basically the biggest stress factor in all the wedding plans.”

Hunter grinned at him. “Well, now you both get to make your own little family.”

“That’s true,” Fitz said, with a little smile. He put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder, and adopted an emotional expression as he said in mock-seriousness: “But I think in a way we already have. You and Skye are our siblings now, and Mack and Bobbi and Trip are like our older siblings”.

“Oh god,” Hunter groaned. “Another chick-flick moment! This night’s going to be nightmare. One pint and you’re already getting sentimental on me. I am not looking forward to you hitting the whiskey later on and welling up while you tell me over and over again how lucky you are to be marrying the most beautiful, brilliant, amazing woman in the world.”

“Which is all absolutely true,” Fitz replied. “I don’t need whiskey to do that, I can get emotional right now just thinking about it.”

“Please don’t,” Hunter begged. “I love you and Jemma like family, you are my best friends in the world and I am so happy for you two, but I have a reputation to maintain, I have women to impress, this is a very emotional time for me and I cannot afford to start bawling my eyes out because you two beautiful geniuses are coming together as one. This is a manly night where we do manly things – even Jemma and Skye are going to have to do manly things when they show up. Absolutely nobody is allowed to cry or I will shoot them with an Icer that I have smuggled into the country specifically for the purpose, am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal. But just to clarify, it’s okay to cry at the wedding, right? Because there’s no fucking way I am going to be able to hold it together the minute Jemma walks down the aisle, and she will be livid if you paralyse me during the ceremony.”

“Oh, you get a free pass for crying at the wedding,” Hunter replied, as he got down off the bar stool and lifted his jacket from the back of the chair. “But only because I won’t be able to shoot anyone when I’m blinded by tears myself.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Fitz replied, jumping off the stool himself. “This is a symbolic exit, Hunter, we are leaving this pub behind as we move onto the next phase of our lives.”

“Okay, good,” Hunter replied, as he put on his jacket. “Do you want to stop off at the coffee shop as well then?”

“God no!” Fitz exclaimed. “I would be very happy to never see that place again. Although…” he said, pausing as he walked towards the door, “when we come back to London next week to get the flight for our honeymoon, I think I’ll take Jemma back to the little tea shop around the corner from it. The one where we had our first meeting-stroke-date.”

“The one you proposed to her in last year?” Hunter asked.

“Yup,” Fitz said. “That’s it. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s been such a special place for us I really want to go back there as husband and wife. And after we got engaged, we went back to the Brass Monkey to celebrate, the pub where we had our second sort-of-date, so I’d like to go there for a drink too, if we have time.”

“Oh, it’s a pity you can’t go back to our old flat,” Hunter chimed in as he held the door open for Fitz. “That’s where you had your first actual shag, I remember it well. You could consummate your marriage on that squeaky old bed of yours.”

Fitz gave him a withering look and Hunter flashed him an innocent smile. Fitz stopped in the doorway in front of him, and gently tapped Hunter’s cheek with the flat of his hand. “Oh, Hunter!” he sighed melodramatically. “Poor Hunter! I’m off to Tahiti for two weeks, to a luxury hotel overlooking the ocean, with my stunningly gorgeous wife who has bought no less than four different bikinis for this trip. She has modelled all of them for me. Believe me when I tell you that I am not in the least bit nostalgic for that squeaky bed.”

Hunter groaned and dropped his shoulders. “I hate you so much! You get that, and what I get out of all this is me in a kilt making a speech in front of two exes, their great new blokes, my boss and his daughter that I might fancy, her handsome ex whom I’m friends with, and the bride’s parents who think I violated their youngest child!” Fitz winked at him.

“Serves you right for the hell your messed up sex life put me through for months,” he whispered. “Also, for not speaking to me for a month for no good reason.” Hunter hung his head in shame. “However, you did help get me this job,” Fitz considered. “And you did help me with Jemma as well, and with the whole Charlotte thing. And you’re wearing a kilt for me, under very embarrassing circumstances for yourself. Which is why I got you tickets for an executive box at Anfield* for Liverpool’s game next week as your best man present.”

Hunter’s mouth dropped open and he stood frozen to the spot staring at Fitz. Eventually he spoke. “Fitz!”

“It seats 10, and you can get lunch and drinks served. You can bring whomever you like. Maybe Mack and Trip would like to go, but I know they’re not much into football. Not our football anyway. Or ‘soccer’ as they call it.” Fitz walked out the door, and then spun round in the street as though he had just thought of something. “You know who did used to play soccer though, and who might like to go? Skye. Just a thought,” he shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realise that I've thrown a whole new element into the story in the epilogue with the Hunter and Skye thing. I want to apologise to any Huntingbird or Tripskye shippers reading this fic. It is not my intention to denigrate your ships, both of which I actually like. This plot development is more to do with the story, not even so much shipping. I don't even ship Phillinda for example, and yet I have them married in this fic. Although I will fully admit to indulging my own little Skyelance crack ship whims here, marrying Bobbi off to someone else was necessary in order to explain Hunter's breakdown. And it occurred to me as I got near the end of writing, that I had put Hunter through a lot of pain but hadn't really given him any resolution in this fic. I didn't want to just throw in a happy ending for him out of nowhere, but i just wanted to demonstrate that he had moved on, and to give some little hint of hope for him, although I left it very open ended. This dynamic is something I might possibly explore in the sequel.
> 
> *Anfield is the grounds where Liverpool FC play. Although it makes more sense for Hunter to support a London football club, Nick Blood is a massive Liverpool fan and so this is just a nod to him.


End file.
